Starved
by Lazarus76
Summary: Being forced to face up to yourself is difficult. Meeting someone who might ease that makes it all so much easier...but for how long? Arthur/Ariadne
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. And this is something that I've wanted to write for a very long time. Just imagine the characters in a normal setting. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to. **

"Arthur. Please come to my office."

The young man sighed and leaned back in his chair. The intercom on his desk had buzzed, and his boss had spoken. He leaned back in the leather, padded seat, gently touching his feet to the floor and letting it spin slightly. He put his foot out, and stopped - the dizziness was starting to make him feel slightly sick.

The intercom buzzed again. "Arthur!"

He pushed the chair back, scowling at the device. Leaving his jacket hanging on the back of the chair, he pushed it back and began to walk towards the door. Having his own office was a luxury he enjoyed - he'd set it up with an iPod dock, and other little touches, such as framed photos and an espresso machine. Working at the anonymous corporation had its perks, although it also, he mused, had its inconveniences.

Such as his boss.

Dom Cobb was on the phone when Arthur entered his office. He swallowed, and waited for the older man to finish. Shaking his head, he gestured impatiently at Arthur to seat himself. Arthur settled onto the chair, noting how the weathe had broken, splattering the windows with rain.

Finally, after an interminable wait, the older man clicked off. "Right. Thank you." He placed the receiver down, and looked at Arthur. His light blue eyes raked over the younger man, causing him to squirm. He swallowed, and rested his elbows on the desk, linking his fingers together.

"Now, Arthur." Cobb's tone was kind, but Arthur sensed a wariness. A touch of not knowing how to phrase the next question. A concern that he might say something that would upset, offend. "I've called you in here because I'm concerned about you."

Arthur exhaled, slowly. "I know that report is late," he said, guardedly. "I've been going through the data, I'm still waiting for Robert to hand me the file-"

"No, no," Cobb shook his head, frowning. "Its not the work, I have no problem with that. Its you. I'm concerned about you."

Arthur sat up straighter, and folded his arms. "What do you mean?" he asked, carefully.

"Well, Arthur, there are some reports of you..." Cobb swallowed, going slightly red. "I'm sorry, this is a sensitive subject. Reports of you apparently being ill, only not exactly telling people."

Arthur shook his head. "I'm absolutely fine, Dom. Really." He got up to leave.

"One moment." Cobb's eyes raked him over. "Please, sit down. When I say ill - I mean fainting after that presentation you gave. Are you sure you don't remember?"

Arthur sat back down. "I-"

"Well?" The eyes had become chips of blue ice. "Fainting, Arthur. Fainting because you-"

Arthur got up. "I don't have to listen to this." He pushed the chair back, and prepared to leave. Cobb coughed, and he stopped.

"I suggest you get some help." His eyes wandered over the other man's slender frame. "Of course, we could send you to the company shrink, but I don't think you'd want that."

Arthur blanched. "No." His own voice was firm. "I don't nee to see a shrink."

"Well, I've done some googling." Cobb looked at Arthur. "Perhaps you should go to this." He pushed a piece of paper across the desk at him. "If you do have a problem, they're the people to call upon."

Arthur scanned it, and frowned. "Are you serious? You expect me to go to this? Sit around in a circle in some basement and talk about my feelings?!"

Cobb leaned back in his chair. "Arthur. You were overheard in the men's room last week throwing up. Do you have anything else you'd like to say?"

Arthur reddened to the roots of his hair. "I-"

"If there is a problem," Cobb repeated, his voice now possessing a firm warning to the younger man, "they are the people to see. I won't say it again."

Silenced, and blushing, Arthur snatched up the piece of paper, and stormed out. Cobb sighed, wincing at the banging of the door, and reached for a file. Opening it, he tried to shut the memory of Arthur's face out of his mind.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Arthur muttered, entering the doorway. His nose winkled in distaste as he walked down the steps.

He had spent the last dying hours of the day mulling over his conversation with Cobb, alternating between anger and sadness. His boss had implied a level of concern, but the sheet he'd tossed to him had made Arthur bristle. Having to go to some anonymous hall, sit in a circle with a group of others, and talk about something that he did not consider a problem.

It was something he could deal with.

He sighed ,and looked around him, disdainfully. The hall was painted in shades of ochre and taupe, a depressing combination. Chairs were set out in a circle, and they had cushions. He frowned, and walked over to a young woman seated behind a desk, checking off a list. He swallowed, and was about to speak when she looked up and smiled. "Hi."

"Hello," Arthur said, a touch frostily. He looked round the room again - people were dressed in a mixture of styles, some casual, some relatively smart, but he realised he was the only person wearing a three piece suit, and suddenly felt over-dressed, and slightly ridiculous. He coughed, and she looked up.

"Oh, please, go in there and wait for the meeting to begin." She waved a hand in the direction of the other room. "There's coffee, tea, juice, soda."

Arthur nodded, and reached inside his jacket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. She frowned slightly.

"I'm sorry, no smoking." She spoke firmly, but pleasantly. Slightly annoyed, Arthur rammed the packet back into his jacket, and walked into the room.

He blinked as he walked in. The room was mostly women, and he felt like an interloper. Some of them, he noted, were obviously overweight, others bordering. He scanned the room, and suddenly felt as though he were a voyeur. And, he thought guiltily, disloyal to his girlfriend. He'd called her, explaining that he couldn't meet her for dinner, and then clicked off, scared of the anger he would receive down the phone. Struggling with his emotions, he moved into the centre of the room.

As he looked his eyes rested on a young woman. She was tiny - probably no more than 5 feet 1 - and dressed in a black jacket, jeans, and faded t-shirt. She was sipping from a polystyrene cup, and he realised she was standing next to a refreshment table. His throat felt dry, and he walked over.

As he served himself a cup of coffee, his eyes kept sliding over to her. He picked the cup up, took a sip, and grimaced.

"Foul, isn't it?"

He blinked. She was talking to him. He nodded, still gingerly holding the cup. "You could say that."

She smiled. "I always think that they don't put actual coffee granules in it, just ground mud. Like vending machines." She laughed and took another sip. "Be great if they put a Starbucks stand in here!"

Against his will, Arthur smiled. "Well, maybe."

"But considering what we're here for, all that cream and calories...maybe not." She shrugged. "Is this your first meeting here?"

Arthur nodded. He was feeling genuine warmth from her, and nodded. "Yes."

"Its tough, the first couple of times. But it does get easier." She shook her head. "And here, you get to feel supported."

Arthur blinked. A woman in jeans and light blue sweater was moving to the middle of the circle. The young woman looked at him.

"By the way, I'm Ariadne. Shall we go and sit down? Its about to start."

Arthur, his grip almost crushing the fragile cup, nodded. "Yes." His voice sounded small. "Let's."

"And you are?"

"Arthur."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

_I am nothing like these people. _

Arthur sat, stiff and rigid, as the group surrounding him began to speak. Swallowing, he realised he felt disgusted. Disgusted with their tales of having to give into their desires, their needs, and their wants. He sat up straighter, pulling in his stomach and taking a brief flash of pleasure as the waistband of his dress pants fell away slightly from his torso. He almost smirked, then realised that a pair of eyes were upon him.

The group leader. She was smiling at him, and he suddenly felt a wave of repulsion. He'd been sitting here, for nearly twenty minutes, listening to other people informing him about their lack of self- control or their desire for more. And he suddenly realised, he had no desire to share any of his secrets with them. He coughed, politely.

"Um, yes?"

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Her tone was kind, without the manufactured niceties he was used to with his therapist. "Just you name?"

Arthur swallowed. "Its, uh- its-"

"Yes?"

He bit his lip. Suddenly, a rush of repulsion flooded through him, and he knew he had to get away from her, from them, from this place immediately. "I- uh- sorry, I have to leave..." grabbing his suit jacket and briefcase, he began to walk away, quickly, trying to ignore the sweat beginning to pour down between his shoulder blades.

As he headed for the door, he did not notice the figure getting up and walking behind him.

* * *

Standing outside in the grey, drizzly late afternoon, he fished in his pocket, pulling out the packet. Shaking it, he dislodged a cigarette, and immediately placed it in his mouth, lighting up. _Thank God for nicotine._

He exhaled sharply, the acrid smoke lingering in the air. Putting it in his mouth, he sucked on the end, letting the smoke fill his lungs. It felt so good, a primal urge being saited. He needed it.

"Are you ok?"

He blinked in shock and turned, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth with force. "I- yes!" He almost snapped. Blinking, he took in the petite young woman standing before him. She was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Why did you follow me?" he demanded, harshly. Anger was fuelling his words, and they came out sharp, like barbs.

Her face coloured. "Only to see if you were all right," she responded, coolly. "It can be hard, the first time. But, if you're sure-"

She turned to walk away. A feeling of shame flooded through him - she was being polite, and he was unsettled, and he suddenly realised that if he went home, there was no-one he could talk to.

No-one.

"Look, do you want to go for coffee?" he asked, suddenly.

She stopped, and looked back. "What?"

"Coffee," he repeated, feeling slightly embarrassed. "There's a place just up the block." He jerked his thumb, mashing the cigarette out of existence. "We could go and...talk?"

She swallowed, and nodded. "Why not?"

He nodded, and smiled. It came out as a grimace, and he bit his lip. "Yeah, why not?"

* * *

The coffee shop was deserted. He ushered her in, and they settled in a booth. He seated himself on the slightly worn vinyl, mentally comparing it to the place he was expected to go to tonight. He shuddered, and looked at the table. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"What can I get you?"

He blinked, and looked up at the waitress. "Um, black coffee, please," he mumbled. He glanced at Ariadne. "And a-?"

"Latte please," Ariadne said, swiftly, and the waitress nodded. As she walked away, Arthur blinked. "A latte?"

"Yes," she replied, a touch defensively. "Why?"

"Well, its..." he frowned. "Its milk."

"Arthur." Ariadne shook her head. "Do you want to try and beat this, or not?"

"Beat what?" he replied, his tone too innocent. She frowned, looking down at the spotted table. "You know. What you went to the meeting for-"

"I went because of my boss," he replied, his voice steady. "He thinks I have a problem."

"Really?"

"Yes." He paused as their drinks were placed in front of them, and picked up a spoon. Ariadne pushed the sugar dispenser to him. "Sugar?"

He raised an eyebrow. "No thanks." With a swift gesture, he pushed it back to her. "I don't take sugar."

An awkward silence descended. Arthur picked up his cup, and took a sip. "So, what's your reason for going to those..meetings?"

Ariadne blushed. "I'm a postgraduate student. I can't afford a therapist."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I do."

"I don't want to be like this." She spoke, but the words seemed to hang in the air, almost disconnected. Arthur took another sip. "To feel this way."

"I-" Arthur paused. A memory was beginning to crawl into his mind. He'd been standing outside the copy room, annoyed that his PA was on a lunch break, and he had to copy a document. He'd never said it to her, but he'd frowned whenever she'd gone for lunch. After a few weeks, she'd started leaving the office completely for an hour. He'd merely sat at his desk, nursing black coffee, and later, cigarettes.

As he stood, he'd realised he could hear voices. Female voices. Pausing, he realised he could hear his name.

"Yeah, he's good looking, but he's-"

"He's what?"

"He's a stick, isn't he?"

Arthur had narrowed his eyes.

"Are you talking about Arthur?"

"Yes! I wonder about him. Does he have anyone to take care of him?" the young woman's voice was filled with compassion, and Arthur had to restrain himself from spitting with fury. The judgements that were being passed on him were-

"But he's looking bloated round his face."

"Is he?"

"Yes...if you look."

Suddenly, he couldn't bear it any longer. Turning, he hurried back down to his office, shutting the door, his thought spinning.

"Arthur, are you ok?"

He blinked. Ariadne was looking at him. "Are you-"

"Fine!" he almost shouted. "I'm fine!"

Without pausing, he got up, and began to leave. As the door swung shut behind him, he turned, and began to hurry to the subway.

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur hurried down the stairs to the subway, slipping onto a carriage as the metal doors slid reassuringly closed. He swallowed, trying to control his hands. They were shaking, and he jammed one into his pocket, trying to appear nonchalent.

He quickly scanned the carriage. No-one was looking at him, but he withdrew himself, trying to take up as little space as possible. The seat next to him was empty, and he noticed with a sense of pride that he took up slightly less than the actual seat. He carefully smoothed down his suit, looking at the floor.

"May I sit here?"

He looked up. A young woman was looking at him, smiling flirtatiously. He felt himself redden slightly, then nodded.

"Of course."

She settled herself next to him, and he shifted. He could smell her perfume - classic, expensive. She adjusted her scarf, and reached into her bag, pulling out a magazine.

He eyed it. It was a standard fashion magazine, and he scrutinised it, looking at the front cover. She turned to him, frowning slightly. "Are you OK?"

He shook his head, aware that he had been caught staring. He swallowed, noting with relief that the train was pulling into his stop.

"Fine," he mumbled, getting up, and heading for the doors.

* * *

Ariadne sat motionless, staring into her coffee. A wrinkled skin had formed on top, causing her to shudder. She didn't want to drink milk, but was being urged to. "It will help," her therapist had advised her, kindly.

"How?" Ariadne asked, feeling exasperated. Every time she went, he had a new idea or theory that would help her. She shuddered - she was increasingly unsure that they were helping at all. He recommended he should carry a candy bar arondd with her - "just unwrap it, feel it. Believe you are worthy of eating it."

She shook her head. Suddenly, the waitress appeared. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," she said, quietly. "Nothing."

"Is your friend coming back?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No he isn't."

* * *

Arthur hurried out of the subway, and began to walk the three blocks to his apartment. He swallowed, walking as quickly as possible. He clutched his briefcase uneasily, pulling his trenchcoat round himself. He tried his hardest not to look at anyone as he walked.

He shook his head, vowing he'd never go to a meeting again. He couldn't be sitting there, listening to the others...they were people with problems, with issues. He didn't have a problem. He was fine. He was in control. Shaking his head, he approached his apartment, reaching in his pocket for his keys.

As he entered the apartment, he frowned. The air had been disturbed, and he noticed irritably, his girlfriend's coat hanging on one of the hooks. He scowled - he'd told her that if she did want to enter his place, she needed to tell him. He bit his lip, and hurried to the lounge. "Are you here?"

A young woman was sitting on the couch, stretched out. She turned her head as he approached. "You're late."

He shook his head. "I'm not. I had a meeting to attend." He walked into the bedroom, intending to take his jacket off, and hang it, with careful precision, in the closet. To his annoyance, she followed him.

"You knew we were going out tonight!" She accused. As he stood in front of the closet, she wrapped her arms around his middle. He frowned. "Be careful."

"I know. I could snap you in half." There was an angry edge to her words. "Arthur, tonight is a very big deal, ok? My boss has asked me to have dinner with him - and I need you to be-"

"Be what?" He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Be what, Elena?"

"Normal," she snapped. She flicked through the closet and pulled out a light grey suit, throwing it on the bed. "Wear this, OK? Black makes you look.."

She paused, and looked at him. "What?" he challenged. "Finish the sentence."

"Don't...hide food." She shook her head. "Just eat like a normal person."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh. I'll order four courses and then get praised for stuffing myself, shall I?"

"Arthur!" she looked furious. "Stop twisting my words!"

He shrugged. "I'm not." He glared at her. "Can I get dressed,, please?"

Scarlet with anger, she turned and left the room. He picked up the suit, the thought of the afternoon making him shudder. But Ariadne...perhaps she had been the best thing of all.

**Thank you for reading - please leave a review, it is appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.  
**

"Just try and be nice."

Arthur bristled as Elena rapped out the command. She was sitting in the cab, gazing into her compact mirror, frowning slightly. He pulled away, edging towards the door.

"Of course," he snapped, not bothering to look at her. She frowned and daintily dropped the compact into the clutch bag she was resting on her lap. "I mean it," she said, her voice sharp. "My boss will be here, and so will be another colleague. This is a very important deal for me, ok?"

"Then why bring me?" Arthur retorted, turning to her. "Why bring me, if you think I'm just going to make it difficult?"

"I didn't say that!" Her face was growing flushed. "Just...watch it, ok?"

"Of course." He turned away from her.

"Oh, and Arthur?"

"What?"

"Try and eat something, all right?"

He looked at her. "Elena. I will eat everything on the menu and then throw up. Is that what you want me to say?"

"No!" She said, angrily. "I'm just tired of your lies! You never eat breakfast, you claim to be too busy for lunch, you skip dinner...do you really think no-one notices?!"

"No, I think people are polite enough to accept I am an adult and I will do what I want!"

"An adult?" She sneered, her face now turning a subtle shade of crimson. "You behave like a child!"

A silence began to descend. He frowned at her, turning his face away. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Having been with Elena for over a year, he'd tried to accommodate her in his life. But he wanted to push her away. He glanced at her. A tear was rolling down her cheek, and he looked away.

"We're here." The can driver, who had been forgotten in the argument, glided the car to a smooth stop. Elena wiped her eyes, and Arthur hurried pulled out a handful of bills, crumpling them into the other man's hand. Wordlessly, the couple got out, and approached the restaurant.

As they entered, Arthur felt his face wrinkle in distaste. The restaurant was full of people, and to his disdain, they were eating. Too much. And too quickly. He shook his head in disgust, his stomach roiling as the scent of food began to tease him. He could smell the fat, the sugar, the meat juices in the air. He swallowed - for a moment, he'd wondered if he'd been about to vomit. He noticed as Elena smiled and began to walk across the room. As she walked, he noticed a dapper Japanese gentleman stand up, and also noticed another man sitting with him. A large man, with the kind of slightly thick,, muscular build that reminded him of High school jocks.

"Mr Saito!" Elena glided over to him, and he kissed her hand. As she blushed, Arthur felt his eyes narrow. The other man stood up, and extended his hand. "Good evening. Its Arthur, isn't it?"

Arthur nodded, grabbing the stranger's hand limply. "Yes. You are-"

"Oh, I'm Aidan," the man said, grinning almost foolishly. "I work with Elena in investment."

"Oh, of course," Arthur said, nodding. Saito turned to him. "Oh, Arthur. It is a pleasure." The two men shook hands, and Saito nodded. "Please, be seated."

Arthur sat, and as he did so, realised there were two other chairs. "Um...is someone else coming?" he asked, politely. Elena frowned at him slightly. He ignored her.

"Yes, a business acquaintance and his wife," Saito replied in his easy, friendly manner. Arthur swallowed, reaching for his water glass. As he took a small sip, Saito stood up. "Mr Cobb!"

To his shock, Arthur saw his boss and wife approach. He shuddered as they came closer, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. He swallowed, clutching his water glass more tightly. As they came closer, He noticed Mallorie Cobb's eyes widen slightly with shock. He blinked - he had not seen her for three months, except at a small cocktail party to celebrate the closing of a contract.

"Arthur!" she almost gasped when she saw him. "You've lost weight!"

"I know," he mumbled. He suddenly realised he was sweating. The look of affectionate concern in Mal's eyes was threatening to overwhelm him. "I-um-" he looked at Saito. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise," the older man said, gently. "Arthur, please, take a seat." He picked up a menu. "You need to order something."

Stunned, Arthur watched as Saito casually opened a menu. He realised that Elena was sitting next to him, stiff and censorious. Cobb had positioned himself on his other side, and Aidan, he noticed with a sinking heart, was sitting next to Elena.

"Shall we order?" Cobb asked, his tone taut. Arthur shuddered. A waiter approached. He listened to the other orders, his stomach squirming as he heard the entrees of the others - steak, lobster, chicken-

"Arthur?"

"Um, salad," he whispered hoarsely, no longer caring that everyone was staring at him.

"Arthur!" Mal spoke suddenly. "You can't just order that! You need some meat on your bones!"

Her outburst caused an uneasy shift in the company. Elena turned to her. "I know. He just never seems to eat!"

Arthur suddenly felt furious. "Can we not discuss this?" he asked, harshly. The two women looked taken aback. "I am here, I can hear you!"

Elena glared at him. "Arthur, calm down-"

"Yes," Aidan said, unexpectedly. "Please."

Arthur looked at him, stunned. "Are you telling me what to do?"

"Yes," Aidan said, boldly. "Because you're embarrassing everyone here." He looked at Elena. "I can see what you mean now."

Shocked, Arthur got up. "I-"

"Sit down," Elena said, coldly, taking his hand. "I'm so sorry, Mr Saito." She looked at Arthur. "He's a little out of-"

Arthur pulled his hand out of hers. "Pay for this yourself," he snapped. Furious, he turned, walking out of the restaurant, leaving the shocked stares of the others behind him.

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	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur walked down the street, hurrying. He didn't want to look at anyone, and didn't want anyone to look at him. As he moved more swiftly he felt more powerful. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to control his ragged breathing. He stopped, leaning against the wall of a shop. He closed his eyes, a cool trickle of sweat forming and running down his nose.

"Are you allright?"

He blinked, and looked. The speaker was a young woman, slightly overweight, he noted, but her tone was kind. His face crinkled slightly in distaste, and she took a step back.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I just need to..." he swallowed and looked around. "I just need to get myself home, that's all."

"Oh, ok," she said, nodding, her tone slightly cooler. "I just thought you might need some help-"

"I don't need any help," he snapped, his face flushing. "I just need to go."

Without another word he began to walk, completely ignoring her. She stared after him, her expression crushed. As he walked, he began to focus on getting back. The thoughts of what he'd left behind him were becoming increasingly distant.

* * *

"I'm so sorry about that," Elena spluttered. She swallowed, looking at Saito, who nodded reassuringly. Aidan reached for her hand, and took it. "Its all right hun. Really."

"Listen," Cobb said, getting up. "I think I ought to go and see if he's all right." He looked at the company. "He is my employee, and I do feel I have a responsibility to make sure he's ok." He began to tuck his chair in, and as Mal got up, he put his hand up as though to stop her. "No, honey, its fine. I'lll go by myself." He leaned over and kissed her, and she nodded.

The party was silent as Cobb left. Mal turned and smiled kindly at Elena. "It will be-"

She was silenced as Elena got up. "Excuse me," she said, in a choking voice, and headed for the Ladies' room.

Mal put down her wine glass. "Gentlemen." Nodding graciously, the Frenchwoman excused herself. As she entered the ladies' restroom, she could hear the sounds of muffled sobs. Swallowing, ignoring the two young women who were staring in the mirror, touching up their make up, she gently rapped on the door. "Elena? Please."

After a few moments, the sound of a deadbolt being slid back clicked. The other woman looked at her, her face slightly blotchy and make up streaked. Mal smiled, kindly. "Come."

Elena walked out of the cubicle, and looked at Mal. Her expression was crushed, and as the words left her mouth, did so in a broken, jarring cadence. Mal laid a hand on her shoulder. "Talk to me."

"I don't know what to do," Elena confessed. "He's so...distant." She shuddered, and reached for a tissue. "He looks at me as though he hates me, wont let me look at him naked, won't let me touch him." She swallowed, and pulled her evening wrap around herself more tightly.

"So why are you still with him?" Mal countered. Her tone was sympathetic, and Elena sniffed.

"Because he looks so good to walk alongside with."

* * *

Arthur swallowed. He looked round, realising it was starting to rain, and he was beginning to shiver. Glancing, he noticed an all night diner was open. Hurrying in, he began to scan the menu, intently reading the prices and dividing them, trying to work out the calorie cost.

"What can I get you?"

The young man behind the counter was blank faced, immaculate in his starched uniform. "Black coffee, please," he muttered, trying to keep his gaze low. As the cup was placed before him, he heard the tinkle of the bell. "Hey, princess."

Arthur blinked. Walking into the diner, out of the rain, clad in a jacket, was the girl. Ariadne. He checked his watch - nearly 9pm.

"Hi," she said, sounding flustered. "Can I-" she blinked, and looked at Arthur, then shook her head. "Can I just have a glass of water?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Only a glass of water?" the server asked. "Sure you don't want-"

"A herbal tea," she said, quickly. As the water glass was pushed towards her, she picked it up, and began to move towards one of the booths. Quickly, Arthur scooped up the cup of coffee, and followed her. As she sat down, he placed his coffee on the other side, and sat down. "Hey!" she protested.

Arthur looked at her, humourlessly. "Feels familiar."

"What do you want?" She was pulling a sketchpad out of her bag. "I'm kinda busy."

"Ariadne." Arthur swallowed. "I just...want someone to talk to."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow, mirroring his cool stance. "Well, I've just been working late on campus, and just want some space. Besides, you had your chance to talk after the meeting." She picked up her water glass.

"But I..."

"But what?"

"But I just had a..." his voice trailed off, aware that her eyes were boring into his. "I've just had a lousy evening," he finished, lamely.

"Sorry to hear that," she said, coolly, her attention once again taken with her sketches. "Why?"

"I went out for dinner."

"Dinner?" her lips were beginning to quirk. "Arthur, you went out for dinner? When you have-"

"Not my idea," he muttered. "I went with my girlfriend."

"Oh." She shrugged. "She doesn't know?"

"She-" he shook his head. "I- I-"

"She doesn't." Ariadne shook her head. "So what happened?"

Arthur was about to speak, and suddenly realised the server was approaching with a cup of coffee. Ariadne smiled as he placed it in front of her. "Thank you."

"Well, it was..." he stopped. "Do you ever have people telling you you need to eat?"

"Yes," Ariadne said, nodding. "And?"

"Its as though they can't see how much weight you carry already," he mumbled. "But she did, and so did my-"

"Your what?"

Arthur shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He began to get up.

"Leaving again?"

He stopped. Ariadne was looking at him directly. He swallowed, trying to form the words.

"Yes."

"But I'll see you at the meeting on Tueday?"

_Who else am I going to talk to?_

He looked at her, and nodded. "Yes."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur walked down the road, trying to walk as quickly as possible to maximise his metabolic rate. As he walked, he noticed the shining restaurant fronts, filled with people talking, laughing...and eating. It was hard for him to refrain from sneering in disgust. How could they be content, he wondered, relentlessly shovelling grease and fat and calories into themselves? He shuddered and continued to walk.

As he walked, his mind started to drift. He should find Elena. But no...she'd expect him to apologise, and he wasn't going to apologise for his behaviour. He did it to protect himself, to protect his existence. To protect his life, his ultimate goal, that seemed to be constantly under threat from his managers, his girlfriend, and his friends.

He shook his head in disgust. They could try all they liked. No -one could reach him.

He began to slow his steps as he reached his apartment. As he entered, he began to feel more secure. The door closed, separating him from the outside world, cocooning him in own life. As he walked up the six flights of stairs, he began to relax.

He was safe now. And as he closed the door, completely safe.

He walked into the bedroom. The crisp bed sheets were pulled up tightly, and he began to remove his suit, laying it carefully on the bed. As he shed his clothing, he began to examine himself critically, checking his frame for any wobble or bulge. He turned, the reflection in the long mirror revealing an almost concave stomach, and a stack of emergent ribs. He frowned, pausing to nip at a small fold of skin around his middle. He looked at it, biting his lip.

_A fold can become a swell._

Shaking his head, suddenly feeling nauseated, he grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom. As he turned on the shower, he stepped under it, determinedto cleanse himself of the evening, of Elena, of his thoughts. He stepped under the steaming rain, picked up a bottle of shower gel, and started to wash.

_Ribs, soap over the ribs. Notice the gap inbetween them, the skin stretching ever taughter. Then move down past the stomach - its almost disappeared, to the hipbones. Feel them, sharp and emergent. Emergent triumphant. Then down...down..._

Arthur stood motionless, leaning against the wall, letting the water and steam lull him. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall into an almost somnanbulant state. He exhaled, running a hand along his jawline, feeling the sharp point under the skin. He sighed, stroking his cheek. Too plump? Possibly. He leaned out and began to turn off the water, opening the glass doors and reaching for the towel.

Swathing it round his hips, he began to walk back into the apartment. Water. Water was what he needed - nothing else. He opened a cupboard door, biting his lip. A box of saltine crackers winked at him, temptingly - the urge to reach out, pull them of the shelf, and devour them was too strong. Frustrated, he banged the door shut, and began to fill a glass with water.

He walked back into the living room, his skin drying as he walked. Elena was no doubt in the restaurant, crying on Aidan's shoulder, about him...his fingers tightened around the glass. She was always unsupportive.

She'd never given him any help. He sank into the leather sofa, thinking of the times he'd taken her out for meals, offered to cook. She'd been resistant, but he'd persuaded her. Persuaded her to eat the dishes he recommended and concocted, the dishes containing spice and cream and wheat and bloating calories.

"But, Arthur!" She'd protested as he'd served her pasta. "I can't!"

"Oh, you can," he'd persuaded her, reaching for his wine glass. One sip. That was all he'd had.

"It just..." she'd paused, her eyes sweeping over the food he cooked. "Its very..."

"What?" he challenged.

"Fattening," she responded.

"Is it?" he countered, his eyes large and innocent. She looked at him uneasily. "You know it is."

"No, I don't," he said, tightly.

"Oh, Arthur! Stop lying!" She responded. "You know it is! I feel as though you're trying to feed me like something out of Hansel and Gretel, whilst you don't eat anything!"

"I do eat," he'd said, curtly.

"Really? I saw Eames today. He mentioned he never sees you go for lunch...or anything."

Arthur shook his head. "Not true."

"Arthur, please!" Elena sounded almost tearful. "You...you're so..."

"So what?" he snapped.

"Thin," she'd said feebly.

That had done it. He had got up, turned his back on her, and slammed his way into the bedroom.

He sighed and leaned back. Elena...she wouldn't be coming back tonight. All he felt was relief. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted to Ariadne. Would she be another one who'd try and force him? Or would she understand his need to control this, to do this? Sighing, he stretched out on the couch, falling into an uneasy sleep.

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.**

Ariadne hummed under her breath as she picked up her plate, and carried it to the sink. The remnants of her meal were clinging to it, resistant as she scraped the scraps into the garbage. Biting her lip, she placed it into the warm, soapy water. She had eaten most of it, she decided. Most of it, and therefore, she was winning.

At least for today.

She left the plate to dry, and then began to walk into her tiny lounge. A small couch was shoved up against the bookshelves, and a TV set on a table. She began to sit in her seat, reaching for her book. As she opened it, she tried to focus.

Her therapist had recommended that she try and focus on getting through the day in half hour stages. "Look," he'd said, reasonably. "If you can go for thirty minutes without needing to binge and purge, you can get through the next."

She'd looked at him, doubtfully. "Well, I-"

"Ariadne," he'd said, kindly. "You have an illness that is destroying you. Its important that we don't let it take over, and win. Remember - half hour chunks of time. Everytime you feel the urge, try doing something else."

She'd blinked. "Such as?"

"Reading. Call a friend." He'd run a hand over his head, and smiled at her again. "I wouldn't advise you watch TV."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Well, you'll be watching women with bodies...that are considered perfect, and I think it could be triggering." He frowned, and shook his head. "So just be a good girl about this, ok? No tv."

Ariadne felt stung, her cheeks reddening. He was talking to her as though she were a child. "But, I think I could handle some-"

"Ariadne." His tone was stern. "Please. Just do it."

She shook her head, and opened her book. The therapist...he was so probing, trying to get her to admit to things she didn't want to discuss. The size zeroes on TV had never caused her behaviour. She leaned against the chair, and closed her eyes.

She remembered the arguments. The fighting. The fact that they couldn't seem to stand each other, despite having been married for over fifteen years and having two kids. And all she ever heard was shouting, and hatred.

She had been thirteen when she'd finally broached the subject. "Mom, why do you and Dad..."

"Ariadne, please. I can't handle this." Her mother's voice had been taut, strained. "Just be a good girl, ok? Don't give us anything to worry about."

Be a good girl. Be a good girl. It had swirled in her head on repeat, like a mantra. And she had tried her hardest to obey it. Her grades were high. She'd tried out for track and the swim team. And she'd loved her art classes.

But...she'd had very few friends. A couple had always hung out with her, but she'd never been part of the popular crowd. She'd overheard herself being referred to as "geeky," "nerdy". It had stung, but she had tried to maintain a positive attitude. There would always be a clique of girls that would rule her year group, she had mused. But they'd always left her alone. Then, she'd overheard something in the girls' bathroom.

"Is it me, or is Ariadne looking a little heavy?"

Ariadne had sucked in her breath. Standing in a cubicle, she'd heard her name.

"A little. But then, she's so short its always going to show." Another voice giggled. "The way she's going she's going to be as wide as she is long!"

Ariadne looked down at herself. Was this true? She smoothed her hands down over top, feeling anxiously for any little bulges of flesh.

"Still, maybe her date will roll her to the prom!" With wild laughter, she heard the door of the room slam shut, and realised with relief that she was alone.

Shocked and upset, she sank down onto the closed toilet. She had gained a little bit of weight, she thought - due to late night study sessions, involving eating cookies. But she could change that.

And she had, starting that evening. And eventually she'd grown to ignore the worried looking faces, the thin lippedness of her mother when she'd refused a helping. And finally, she'd been subjected to hushed whisperings, hearing the words "bulimia" and "disorder." But she'd shaken her head. She was being a good girl, one who didn't cause anyone any fuss. She'd just wanted to lose weight, so why were they trying to imprison her in a hospital bed?

Thankfully, college had given her freedom.

She shook her head, thinking about how her behaviour had worsened. Stress, she'd explained to her tutor. Stress, and the fact that she'd felt she was gaining weight. So they had pressed her towards therapy, the support group.

She shook her head, her thoughts turning to Arthur. He needed to accept his problem, rather than try and deny it. She shivered, remembering looking at his face - the gauntness that emphasised the planes of his cheekbones, the slight discolouration of his teeth, and the fact his hair was thin. She had accepted she had a problem. It didn't make it easier, but she felt as though she were trying to overcome. But Arthur? She sighed, and reached for her glass of water. What she didn't need was someone in denial.

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	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur burrowed down in the couch. The soft leather was yielding to his slight frame. He yawned, stretching luxiriously. He sighed, and began to open his eyes.

Suddenly, he jerked awake. The harsh digital clock of the DVD player was blinking back at him: 8.30am.

Arthur, shocked at his over sleeping, began to try and wake up. He winced as he manouvred himself into a sitting position, and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. Grimacing, he headed for the bedroom, aware he had to change into a suit, and look presentable.

Rummaging through the closet, he pulled out a plain black suit, and a white shit. As he dressed himself, he noted with a slight feeling of exhilaration how the shirt was beginning to sag on his frame, and how the trousers were starting to hang more loosely around his waist. He gave them an experimental tug, noting how they almost started to slide down under his hip bones. Smirking with satisfaction, he pulled on the suit jacket, noting that as he buttoned it, it bagged. Running a comb through his hair, he began to hurry towards the door.

Walking through the streets was a peculiar sensation. Everyone, he noted, appeared to be eating something. He walked past a young woman clutching a Starbucks cup and bag as though it were a talisman. A man hastily shoving the remnants of a wrap into his mouth. A couple of students eating french fries. French fries? At 9am?

Arthur's fascination began to mutate into disgust. Shaking his head, he pushed open the doors of the office complex, and began to make his way to the stairs. He could walk the eight flights. He refused to wait for the elevator. Walking the stairs, knowing that his colleagues were standing in the enclosed metal box, allowing - no, permitting - their bodies to expand - gave him a tremendous sense of satisfaction. He walked up the stairs, ignoring the jolts of pain that echoed in his joints.

As he entered the office, he walked straight to his own. No-one looked up to look at him, and he thought disdainfully, it didn't bother him anymore. He walked to his own private office, and shut the door, carefully seating himself.

Suddenly, the intercom buzzed. Annoyed, he pressed it. "Yes?"

"Arthur?" the voice of Cobb's PA floated out of the black box. "Can you come in to see Dom, please?"

Growling, Arthur threw down his pen and stalked into the other office. Cobb looked up, his features etched in a frown.

"Arthur, please sit down." His tone was slightly curt. Arthur did so, taking the time to eye the other man. He folded his arms.

"Arthur, normally I wouldn't comment on-"

"Then don''t." The words were almost a hiss. Arthur glared at him.

"Arthur." Cobb shook his head. "You were extremely rude to Elena last night, and embarrassed her in front of her boss. I think you should-"

"Should what?" Arthur's tone was sharp. He was now gearing himself up for a confrontation. "Apologise? No."

"Arthur." Cobb's tone was low. "Arthur, she was very upset. Its difficult for her, difficult for all of us-"

"What is?" he demanded harshly.

"Watching you disappear in front of our eyes." Cobb spoke low but firmly. "You've always been lean in the ten years or so you've been here, but now you're-" he paused, aware that personal comments should be avoided.

"Now I'm what?"

"Arthur, you're too thin." Cobb spoke calmly. "We've had this exact same conversation before, and I told you what I thought. But, your behaviour last night...it was...difficult to witness."

"And you're saying what?" Arthur glared.

"I suggested you went to the support group," Cobb said, getting up. "But I think you need to see a professional doctor. Now, I've already booked you an appointment."

Arthur looked at him, stunned.

"Here's the address." Cobb handed him a piece of paper. "Oh, and I've emailed you as well."

Arthur got up, shaken. Cobb looked at him.

"Oh, and Arthur? Don't think about not going. I rang the doctor and told them to ring me if you didn't."

* * *

Ariadne closed her sketch pad and stood up. The lecture on Barocci had been fascinating, and she was delighted that her supervisor, Miles, had invited her along. As she made to leave, she heard his voice. "Ariadne?"

"Yes?"

He approached her, smiling. "Coffee?"

She nodded. "Why not?"

Ten minutes later, they were sitting opposite each other in the campus coffee shop. Ariadne had hesitated, then ordered a cappuccino. Miles had gone for plain black coffee.

"So," Miles said, stirring a packet of sugar into the black brew. "How are you?"

Ariadne blinked. Miles had noticed something was wrong - the day she'd fainted after a tutorial, causing gasps of horror from the other two students. He had helped her, encouraged her to seek help.

She swallowed. "I'm...doing ok."

He nodded. "You look...better."

Ariadne blinked. Better? Did that mean fat? An expression of confusion must have crossed her face, because Miles immediately shook his head.

"No, I don't mean anything negative," he said, kindly. "You look better than you did, trust me."

"Thank you." She smiled.

"Are you still-"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Well," Miles said. "That's good."

* * *

"128 lbs."

Arthur blinked. Had he heard that correctly?

"Step off the scale, please."

He did so, shivering, stripped of his suit, and in this ridiculous gown he was being forced to wear, his dignity. The doctor looked at him. "Mr Ogilvie, you're at least 25lbs underweight."

Arthur blinked. He couldn't believe his ears. "25?" he croaked.

"Yes," she said, her voice flat, atonal. "I would suggest you eat more, but you're not a child. Instead, I'm going to book you back in for an appointment in two weeks. And in the meantime...you need to take care of your nutritional needs."

Arthur nodded.

"Mr Ogilvie, I would recommend you find someone to talk to. This type of disorder can be very destructive, to the detriment of personal relationships."

Numbly, Arthur nodded again. Picking up a printout, he turned to change. Only 25lbs? The humiliation of still being so heavy was enough to send tears coursing down his cheeks. He restrained himself, changing and getting ready to leave.

With a heaviness in his step, he began to leave. He checked his watch - he did not want to go home, as he knew there was a possiblity Elena would be there. That left him with one choice.

Depressed, feeling his extra flesh move and jiggle under his clothes, he began to head for the centre, and the support group meeting. As he entered, he scanned the room, noting that Ariadne was not there.

His heart sank. As he turned to leave, he blinked. She was just entering, looking slightly frazzled. He went up to her. "Hey."

Blinking, she looked at him, and smiled. "Hi. Shall we sit down?"

**I love reviews, if you could leave one it would be great!**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.  
**

"So, we better sit down."

Arthur nodded. He had hesitantly walked over to a table containing polystyrene cups, and picked one up, slightly burning his fingers. It was full of a dark liquid, which could be either tea or coffee. Letting Ariadne take the lead, he went and took his place in the circle.

As he looked round, he studied people. Several of them, he noticed with a shudder, were overweight. Women, who he thought contemptuously, probably had nothing better to do all day than eat junk food in front of soap operas whilst the kids were at school. There were a few young women there, two of whom looked almost too healthy. And, he noticed with a shock, another man.

He was not alone. He shook his head. Alone, he wondered, in what?

Someone was speaking. He struggled to bring his mind in line with their comments. He caught words of "opening up," "not being afraid."

He bit his lip. He was not afraid. Of anything. Not Cobb's threats, not Elena's pouts, nor his mother's tears. The final thought was a jolt. He swallowed, suddenly unable to suppress the memory of when his mothe last saw him. She had been passing through the city, and had rung him at work. He'd answered his cellphone, cautiously.

"Mom?"

"Arthur! Are you busy?"

He'd bitten his lip, trying to suppress a sigh of irritation. "I'm at work, I -"

"Oh, I'm only here for a night," she'd said, quickly, as though he hadn't spoken. "But, do you want to meet for dinner tonight? I would love to see you!"

He bit his lip. Going out for dinner. Going out for dinner meant not being able to control portion sizes, the use of fat, the use of oil, and having to suffer someone else watch him eat. He shuddered.

"Arthur?"

"Oh, mom, yes," he said, absently. "Where shall I meet you?"

"How about Trattorio's?"

Arthur swallowed. He recognised the name. Specialised in Italian food. Rich, creamy, heavy, carbohydrates...his mouth began to salivate as his mind screamed in protest.

"Sure. What time?"

"Half seven?"

"Perfect," he practically croaked into the phone. As the line went dead, he leaned back, suddenly feeling a prickle of fear. He swallowed, trying to focus on the report he was meant to be typing. But his thoughts kept going back to the prospect of eating.

It would be easy, he decided. No bread. He'd refuse. As for the main course...he could order pasta, but request it without butter, without cream, without oil. And no cheese. And only three bites. Three bites, chewed twenty times. That would help, help deceive his stomach he was filling it. As he plotted, he thought he heard it gurgle in protest. He tried to keep working, but found his mind drifting to thoughts of pasta, of meat, of food.

Seven thirty came too slowly.

As he entered Trattorio's, he scanned the room for his mother. There she was - dressed in a simple linen suit, her face slightly anxious. Swallowing, he moved towards her. As she looked up, their eye met, and he was given a jolt as he saw the expression dawning in them.

Shock.

"Arthur," she said, standing up, and opening her arms. Awkwardly, conscious of other watchers, he hugged her. As they hugged, she pushed him away slightly.

"You're too thin."

He felt a wave of annoyance. It had started already. He swallowed, and tried to sound pleasant. "And you look great, Mom." Before she could respond, he'd sat down. "Shall we?"

She sat down, and looked at him uncertainly. "Shall we what?"

"Order," he responded.

She shook her head, and he saw that she was on the verge of tears. "Arthur, you're skin and bones, what happened to you?!"

"I just...decided to tone up a little-"

"Tone up? A little? Arthur, there was nothing of you to begin with!"

He looked at her. "Meaning?"

"Arthur, you were thin enough already!" Tears were almost at breaking point. Arthur leaned back in his seat, coldly surveying his mother. "I was not."

"Arthur, you need to-" his mother stopped as the waiter approached. He looked at them hesitantly. "Are you ready to-"

"Yes," Arthur said, furious. "I'll have veal and fettucini. And could you bring a bread basket?"

The waiter nodded. "Of course Sir."

His mother looked at him, aghast. "Arthur-"

"You want me to eat, I'll eat!" he shouted. As other diners turned and looked at him in surprise, his mother shook her head. "Don't make a scene."

"I'm not," he said, angrily. "You are." He glared at her. "What did you invite me out for dinner for, anyway? So you can try and force feed me?!"

She'd looked at him, shocked. He'd turned away, glaring angrily.

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and turned his head. Ariadne was looking at him, and he realised with a slight shock, so were other members of the group. He shuddered slightly, pulling his jacket round him.

"Arthur, its your turn."

He nodded, and opened his mouth, his thoughts coming to him clearly and strongly.

"I don't know why I'm here."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Arthur, its fine," the woman who seemed to be leading the group said, kindly. "You can just start talking when you wish. What is bothering you?"

Arthur shifted in his seat. He was uncomfortable, and also aware that the other man in the room seemed to be smirking at him. Furious, he lifted his head and glared.

The response was a cruel grin. Startled, Arthur drew back, exhaling his breath. Ariadne, seemingly conscious of his discomfort, lifted her hand, and gently placed it on his upper arm. He swallowed, the tendons in his neck tightening.

"What's bothering me," he said, aggressively, "is that someone is sitting there, smirking, and-"

The other man raised his eyebrows. "Me?" he said, innocently.

"Yes," Arthur snapped, "you!"

"Listen," the man said, leaning forward. "I just come here to feel supported. You're clearly not used to this."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't need this." He stood up.

"Don't need what?" the other man responded. Arthur realised with a shock that the rest of the group was riveted, watching as the drama unfolded before them. Words were becoming charged, and as he knew, could quickly turn into weapons. "What don't you need, Arthur? The truth?!"

"What truth?" Arthur snapped. He could feel his sense of self control unravelling, starting to melt. He forgot that he was standing in the middle of the room.

"The truth that you're going to end up in hospital, on a drip." The voice was almost smug, seeking to hurt. "That your teeth are going to discolour, rot, and fall out. That your hair is going to become brittle, and you'll start to lose it. That soon your girlfriend or wife will be so repulsed by the bag of bones you've turned into, that-"

"SHUT UP!" Arthur roared. Furious, his face scarlet, he moved closer to the other man, so they were almost toe to toe. "Shut up! Just, shut up! You don't know anything about me!"

"Then why are you here?!" The other man roared back. "I saw you last time, sitting there, looking down your nose! Don your nose at all of us! We admit we've got a problem! You don't! You just lie to yourself, lie to all of us!"

Arthur shook his head, his face draining of colour. "Don't," he whispered. "Please."

"Don't what?" The man took another step. "Don't-"

Arthur turned, and ran, grabbing his coat and briefcase on the way out. He couldn't listen to this. Couldn't.

A hushed silence descended on the room as he left. Ariadne turned to the man who had spoken with furious eyes.

"Eames!"

* * *

Arthur stood outside, shaking. He felt a rush of anger and nausea. Leaning over into the side of the road, he coughed, a wad of fluid travelling up, filling his mouth. Disgusted, he spat it into the street.

"Are you all right?"

He turned, his vision hazy and blurred with tears. A young woman stood next to him, a kind expression on her face. His mouth twisted. Seeing him here, like this - he shook his head. "No," he whispered hoarsely.

"Arthur!"

He blinked. Ariadne was next to him, her face a mask of distress. He began to stand up, his mouth tasting sour with the aftermath of bile. She laid a hand on his arm.

"Come on."

Arthur, nodding, allowed himself to be led away from the street, to the diner they had sat in after the first meeting. His heart was pounding, and he could hear a ringing in his ears. He coughed, and pulled out his handkerchief, spitting another large wad of bile into it.

As they entered the diner, Ariadne gestured to a seat. "Sit down."

He did as he was told, for a brief moment enjoying being babied. He leaned over, feeling sick to his stomach. He blinked as Ariadne came back with a glass of water.

"For you," she said, pushing it towards him. He picked it up, and took a swallow, allowing the cool, clear water to fill and rinse his mouth.

"Thank you."

"Arthur, I'm so sorry, Eames has a -" she stopped, and shook her head. "He forgets that not everyone can be open about this."

"What's his problem?" Arthur choked, resentment and anger bubbling up.

"He claims he comes to help after his girlfriend became ill. She was bulimic," Ariadne said, gently. "He comes to talk about how he coped, how he felt."

Arthur looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Touching."

"Arthur-"

"No, I'm fine," he said, anger seeping through his voice. "I've just been told by a guy who could stand to lose a few pounds that soon I'm going to lose my teeth, end up in hospital, and have no woman want to touch me." He glared at her. "So nice of him to tell me that."

"Talk to me," she urged, leaning forward. "What made you come back?"

He shrugged. "My boss." He felt his face redden. "After I-" he bit his lip, clenching his fists. "After I went for dinner with my girlfriend and her boss, and everyone tried to shove food in my face."

She recoiled, his anger and disgust hitting her like a wave. "All of them?" she asked, quietly.

"All of them," he snapped. "Its all I get. All of them, trying to fatten me up to make themselves look better." His face twisted in fury. "They're so undisciplined, Ariadne. Eating what they like."

"But you have to eat," she said, carefully. "Eat to stay alive."

"Do you?" he looked at her. "I find I can survive. People eat too much, its that simple."

She swallowed. "Well, I try and eat-" her voice faded as she realised he was looking at her.

"Do you?"

"Yes," she said, her voice nearly breaking. His tone was so harsh, but she also saw desperation in his eyes. "I have to, Arthur. I want to be free, I don't want this controlling me for thee resst of my life."

"It doesn't control you," he lectured, sternly. "You control it."

She stood up. Exasperation was beginning to take over. "Arthur, please, listen to yourself. We are not in control. It controls us. Its a voice, telling you every day that you need to lose more, be smaller, be lighter - but what if there's nothing left to lose?!"

"There's plenty!" he almost shouted. "Plenty!" He stood up.

Before she could move, he'd left. Again. Her eyes filling with tears, she stared at the linoleum table.

* * *

As Arthur entered his apartment, he shivered. Coldness seemed to be creeping in, affecting him. He swallowed, and began to move towards the bedroom.

To his shock, Elena was sitting on the bed. She was swathed in a towel, her hair hanging limply round her shoulders. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to-" she swallowed. "I still have your keys."

"So you thought you'd let yourself in, is that it?!"

"Arthur." She got up, her towel still wrapped around herself. "Arthur, let's not fight."

"Then don't make a scene." The anger in his voice was palpable. "And don't ever try and embarrass me like that in front of people!"

She looked at him, an moved closer. As she looped her arms around her waist, she pulled him closer. "Arthur, please." Her voice was soft. "I'm sorry about last night. But you're so thin, and I worry-"

"I need to lose a few more pounds," he murmured. She pulled his head down, letting it rest on her shoulder. "You think?"

"I think."

"Let's go to bed. Its getting late."

He glanced at the clock. "Its eight thirty."

"Yes, and I'm..." she began to kiss his neck. "Let's go to bed."

Arthur felt himself weakening. "I-" he swallowed. "I'm not sure. I-"

"Oh, Arthur, come on." She began to unbutton his shirt. He bit his lip, feeling her hands caress his abdomen. _So she's feeling your fat, how distended your stomach is, how gross you are._

"Come on," she insisted, pulling him onto the bed. He bit his lip. "What's brought this on?"

"I talked to Mal," she said, softly. "She told me you need nurturing, need someone to show how much they love you. And I love you Arthur." She began to pull him towards her. "I love you and-"

Her hand brushed over his waist. "Elena, I-" he choked, feeling her hands lightly graze his ribs. "I-"

She pushed him off her, her face quivering with anger. "Fine." She began to get up, and reached for her clothes. "I'll leave. Didn't realise you were turning frigid, Arthur."

Shocked, Arthur watched as she left the room, slamming the door behind her. Shaken, Arthur turned over, and burst into tears.

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	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne angrily wiped the sideboard, hoping the gesture would begin to burn off her excess rage. She wasn't sure who it was most directed at - Arthur for walking out; Eames for needling him so publicly; or herself for not reading the situation or doing anything to prevent it.

She bit her lip, and carried on cleaning. Cleaning felt like a purge - a way to shed the negative emotions that had built up, causing her to fret. It was either that - or eat.

Resolutely, she continued to clean.

Suddenly, she heard the high pitched buzz of the intercom. Swallowing, she went to it, and pressed the button. "Hello?"

"Ari?"

She blinked. "Eames. I don't know if-"

"Look, I need to talk to you." His voice sounded pale, tired. "Please."

"All right."

As she pressed the intercom button, she bit her lip. Eames coming up here was not a good idea- she was tired, and really wanted to sleep. But he sounded so...subdued. As though he knew he was in the wrong, but not sure how to repair it. She went into the kitchen, deciding it would lighten the atmosphere if she made and offered coffee. She began to grind some beans.

A few moments later, she heard a slightly heavy tread up the stairs, and a knock at the door. Leaving the coffee grinder, she went into the hallway, and opened the door.

Eames smiled at her, warily. "Hi."

"Hey," she replied. As he entered, she looked at him. "What's up?"

"Oh, guilt I suppose." He walked into her lounge, and she nodded at him to seat himself. "Guilt at how I shouted at that bloke during the meeting." He swallowed. "Not good."

"Eames..." Ariadne disappeared back into the kitchen. "He's new. He needs time to settle in, find himself."

"He also needs a bloody good slap." Eames sank deeply into the soft chair. "The way he was sitting there, are though he was looking down his nose at everyone. You could almost see it written on his face - "I am thinner than you." "

Ariadne poured coffee into two mugs, and bit her lip. There was a sense of superiority about Arthur - although she tried to deny it.

"He's sick," she said, finally, handing Eames a mug. "He still won't admit he has a problem."

"No, but its not your problem." Eames looked at her, searchingly. "Don't make him your problem."

"But he-" she stopped, abruptly.

"Ariadne..." Eames voice held a warning note. "Be careful. Don't try and make him a project."

"What?" she glared at him.

"A fixer, a healer." Eames shook his head. "I made that mistake."

"I won't," she said, defensively.

"As long as you're sure."

* * *

Arthur turned over, his eyes red and swollen. He could not believe Elena walking out on him. No one ever walked out on him.

Furious, he pushed back the covers, and began to get up. One thought was circling in his mind, despite the encroaching lateness of the hour.

Eat. Eat. Eat.

**Thank you for reading, please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.  
**

Arthur swallowed. Suddenly, he felt weak, and shaky. His urge to eat was driving at him, pushing him. He choked slightly, at the foul mix of bile and saliva accumulating in his mouth. Walking to the sink, he leaned over, and spat it out. Running a faucet, he sluiced his mouth, and swallowed.

_I need food. I need it. Want. Need. Want. Need. Want._

As thought not thinking, he turned, and headed for the door. He knew exactly where he was going - he was always walking past, always spotting the place. Clean, hygienic, the local grocery store. A place where he could satiate his desires, his need. The desires and needs he spent so much of his time denying ever existed. And if they did, he needed to live without, learn to overcome them. Learn to master and control them.

He began to quicken his pace, hurrying down the corridor, and to the stairs. As he practically ran past them, he bit his lip. It would be quiet - it was half seven. But what if someone noticed him? What if they-

_I don't care. I need this. I need it now._

He hurried to the store, not noticing the annoyed looks of other pedestrians as he went past them. As he walked up to it, its glass doors swung open, soothingly. He took a deep breath and entered.

Grabbing a shopping cart, he began to scan the aisles. He never kept food in the apartment - it seemed a violation to bring it into his private space. Food belonged outside, here, where the greedy people could grab at it, buy it, eat it. His lip curled in distaste. He saw them all the time - hunched over their desks, shoving pastries and muffins into their mouths; going out at lunchtime to hunt down more carbohydrates cunningly sliced with vegetables and meat; then the need for sugar later, in the form of coffee runs that always featured billowing clouds of cream and drizzles of syrup. He swallowed - the average colleague, he calculated, probably consumed over 2,000 calories a day before leaving. For dinner. And that was the serious eating part of the day - which involved rivers of alcohol, too much butter, too much cream - he paused. He was at the diary aisle.

Turning, he swallowed. Suddenly, a block of cheese and pot of thick cream had landed in the cart. He pushed on, slightly stunned, as though unable to comprehend where they had come from. He hurried on, suddenly hearing a rustling sound. Potato chips. Salted. Two bags crashed besides the cream and cheese.

Frozen food. Ice cream. He paused, hypnotised by the tantalising labels, the colours, the odd, jaunty names. Cow Power? Karamel Sutra? Arthur swallowed, practically inhaling the sweetness of the icy blocks. He reached out, scooping two cartons off the shelf, and throwing them in. They glistened, the encrusted ice dislodging, running in rivets over the food already in the cart.

He pushed on. Confectionary. Chocolate. He remembered when his PA had handed him a box of hand made French chocolates, after she had returned from a weekend in Paris.

"For me?" he'd said, slightly disbelievingly.

"For you!"

He'd shuddered, but feeling her insistent glare, and opened them, and put one in his mouth. The chocolate had dissolved, coating his tongue, making him almost gag on the sweetness. He'd nodded. "Thank you."

When she'd left the office for the night, he'd dumped them in the trash.

He blinked. The chocolate bars looked so innocent, just lying in their wrappers. He reached forward, ready to grab a couple of bars, when he heard a voice.

"Arthur?"

Frozen with shock, he turned. Robert Fischer, immaculate in a well cut black suit and light shirt, was standing in the aisle, holding a basket. Arthur blinked, noting the contents of it: lettuce. Salmon. A bottle of Pinto Grigo.

"I needed to get a few things," Arthur stammered, realising that his cart seemed to pulsate with obscene calories - all of it fattening, rich, and creamy. Robert quirked an eyebrow and nodded.

"So I see."

"Its..." Arthur felt the words die in his throat. He realised how incongruous he looked - a well dressed executive, with a basket full of food that would embarrass a teenager.

"Oh, no, its good to see you eat something!" Robert winked, and Arthur's heart sank. He smiled, kindly. "Never mind, Arthur. See you tomorrow."

As he turned and left, Arthur realised he was shaking. Leaving the shopping cart, he began to walk, heading outside. A cashier turned and looked at him. "Sir, are you-"

He ignored her. He hurried, out into the air. Clean, fresh, calorie free air. Choking back a sob, he ran to his apartment.

* * *

"You know why I asked you in here?"

Arthur swallowed. Cobb's face was not stern, but nor was it relaxed. Tension was etched around his mouth, and his forehead. He leaned forward.

"Robert told me he ran into you in the grocery store last night." He swallowed, clearly having difficulty eunanciating the words. "I think you need some help. More than a support group."

Arthur felt a flare of defensivenness. "All he saw was me and a shopping cart."

"A shopping cart full off food with zero nutritional value," Cobb retorted. "Arthur, this can't go on. You're a friend as well as an employee. But I can't just sit back and watch you do this to yourself."

"So, I'll find a therapist."

"Already have one." Cobb tossed a card to Arthur. "He's very good. He helped Mal a few years ago."

Arthur nodded. Mal had been ill with postpartum depression after the birth of their second child. "So I see him...when...?"

"This afternoon. I've already booked you an appointment."

* * *

Arthur sat in the plush office. He looked at the walls. Expensive, tasteful artworks adorned them. He swallowed, and fidgeted. He examined the card: Dr Michael Lomas.

He shook his head. Suddenly, a buzz made him look up, and the receptionist looked over. "Dr Lomas will see you now."

Arthur got up, and strode to the door. He chuckled - this would no doubt be a man in an earthtone sweater, probably around 60. Arthur smiled to himself. He'd be easy to fool, easy to twist. Nothing would stop him.

He knocked on the door. "Come in!" a deep baritone requested.

Arthur opened the door. And froze.

This was not a therapist. He was looking at a young man, easily mid thirties, clad in an expensive suit. He was tall, and had an air of authority, belied by his svelte, solid figure. He looked at Arthur, and the younger man shivered.

Those eyes. Chips of ice. They narrowed as they studied him. Arthur felt himself suddenly panic. Had Cobb sent him to someone who would not be deceived by him? He wanted to run - back to Elena and beg? No...to Ariadne.

The other man offered a hand. "Michael Lomas. How can I help you?"

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur was frozen in shock. The man's light grey, expensive suit, the sculpted features, the toned physique, detectable under the carefully chosen dress shirt - it all seemed designed to mock him. To taunt him. The ice grey eyes casually swept over Arthur again, as though he were a product in front of an avaricious businessman.

"Arthur." He blinked, realising that Lomas was speaking. "Arthur, please do sit down." He laughed lightly. "I'm far too lazy to conduct an hour's session on my feet."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Lazy? That body probably saw hours at the gym - stretching, lifting, toning - suddenly the confidence he'd felt in his body, especially after not bingeing the previous night, was beginning to crumble into dust. He looked at the other man, and felt a shiver of hatred. Dom was running to fat; the result of a happy marriage and comfortable life; Fischer was bone thin, and constantly struggling to gain muscle. But Arthur had known, through the admiring looks and subtle little pouts, that he was better than them. But now, this therapist...he was looking at Arthur as though he were the least attractive man on earth.

"Arthur?"

Lomas' deep, rich voice broke into his thoughts. Arthur swallowed. "Yes?"

"Please, have a seat."

Nodding numbly, Arthur sat down. He blinked as he sank into the leather chair. Lomas sat opposite, crossing his legs in one graceful move. He was holding a writing pad, and a biro.

"Now, I am going to conduct this session very informally," he said, smiling. "The key thing is for you to tell me what is bothering you."

"Bothering me?"

"Yes," Lomas nodded. "Bothering you." He began to write. "What is the problem?"

"Nothing." Arthur shook his head.

"Really?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded, firmly.

"Right." Lomas put the pad on his knees, annd nodded. "Arthur, we're going to do some word association. This is where I say a word, and you tell me what you think when you hear it." He smiled. "Nothing to worry about."

Arthur felt a flash of irritation. The man's voice was smug, patronising. "Really?"

"Yes, Arthur. Please, for me to help you, you have to trust me."

There was something sibilant about the words, a near hiss as they fell out of his mouth. Arthur nodded, his lips tightening. Lomas leaned back in his chair, and swallowed.

"Work."

"Necessary."

"Sex."

Arthur paused. A long pause. Lomas looked up, his interest clearly heightened. Arthur smiled. "Pleasurable."

The therapist raised his eyebrows, as though concealing disbelief. He nodded. "Right."

"Food."

Arthur paused. "I-"

"What does the word 'food' mean to you, Arthur?"

"It..." Arthur paused, his voice trailing into nothing. "It means-"

"Nourishment?" Lomas was watching him. "It should do. It helps us live, keeps us alive."

Arthur bit his lip. "Its..."

"Its what?"

"Its... not something I need." Arthur got up, feeling himself shake slightly. "I don't need it."

"Don't you?"

Arthur blinked. Lomas' face was almost mocking.

"When you can't walk, because you no longer have the energy, and you're lying in a hospital bed...you might think differently."

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not listening to this."

"Maybe you should!" Lomas got up. "Maybe you should - you can't run away forever, you need to-"

Arthur was gone, shutting the door behind him.

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	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Lomas sighed and closed his file. Shaking his head, he got up, and poured himself a glass of water. The first session, he mused, was always the hardest. Trying to get the patient to open up.

He took a sip of water, and mused. He could see the man was ill. The collarbone looked as though it was in danger of poking through his shirt, and his dress slacks had hung from his belt as though nothing was inside them. He shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed him so hard. The patient had recoiled in on himself, then closed off.

Lomas sank down, holding the water glass. He had another patient arriving soon. A young woman. They'd held their first session the previous week. He frowned - he was not charging her for sessions. She was coming to him as a favour from a friend.

He vividly remembered the phone call. "Hello?"

"Michael? Miles DeLaune."

"Well, hello." The psychiatrist had felt surprised - the last time he'd heard from Miles was when he'd treated his daughter for postpartum depression. He'd assumed, with his usual professional distance, that that would be the last time he'd hear from him. This phone call had come as a shock.

"Michael...I need a favour from you. Its about a student of mine, a postgraduate."

"What is it?" Lomas hated having to make a telephone diagnosis.

"She's...shrinking. Wasting away." The older man had sounded close to breaking point. "I can't bear it. I think she has a-"

"Miles," Lomas had interrupted. "Please. If its bad, I will see her. I have-" he picked up his desk planner, and squinted at it. "I have next Tuesday free, at 4pm. Can she make it?"

"Thank you. Oh, and Michael?"

"Yes?"

"I will be paying for these sessions."

Lomas swallowed. "No, consider it a favour. After all, you helped me out, allowing me to come onto the university campus and talk to students for my research."

"Thank you."

Lomas swallowed. He'd met her, a tiny, dark haired young woman, who'd looked at him with nervous apprehension. He'd tried his hardest to allay her fears, make her realise that he was trying to help her. But she'd given out very little information, and he had felt the session had told him very little.

He frowned, and took another sip of water. Suddenly, the intercom on his desk buzzed. "Yes?"

"Your 4pm appointment is here."

Her. Nodding, he put the water glass in. "I'm ready."

* * *

Arthur hurried down the street, feeling sweat form in patches on his back, staining his shirt. He needed to try and get away from the appointment, from the awful stare of the psychiatrist. He'd looked at him, so smugly, sitting there in an expensive suit and with his toned physique. Arthur felt himself burn with hatred.

Hatred for Lomas?

Hatred for himself?

He needed to get rid of the feeling. Needed to expunge it. He hailed a cab, and as he got in, gave a few, terse directions. The driver merely nodded.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, he didn't spot the petite brunette walking in the opposite direction.

* * *

Ariadne took a deep breath, as she entered Lomas' office. He smiled at her. "Welcome. Please, take a seat."

As she did so, he sat down also. After a brief pause, he spoke. "So, how are you?"

"I-" she paused. "I'm doing ok."

"Right." He nodded. "How do you know this?"

"Well, I..." she took a deep breath. "I managed to go to the grocery store on Friday night," she admitted, almost shyly. He smiled. "Did you? What did you buy?"

"I didn't buy any..." she paused. "Ice cream. Candy."

"The food you like?" he asked, gently.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't like it, I-"

"It comforts you?" he asked, softly.

"Yes," she admitted, nodding.

"Ariadne...how does it comfort you?"

"Well, it makes me feel better...but then I think of how...how fat I am, and I have to..." she paused, floundering. Lomas nodded.

"So you don't buy it." He nodded. "You avoid the temptation altogether."

"Yes."

"Good." Reaching for a file, he opened it.

* * *

"Table for one."

"Thank you sir."

As Arthur sat down, he felt a tingling, dissipated guilt. This was freedom. It didn't control him, he controlled it. He knew what he wanted. He scanned the menu.

"Prawns..." he announced to the waiter. "Spring rolls."

"Yes, sir."

"Moo shu pork. Lemon chicken. Rice, please. Oh, and duck. And lamb - lamb in black bean. And prawn toast..."

The waiter blinked. But he wrote the words down, and nodded. "Very good sir."

Arthur exhaled. He wanted sweet, he wanted salt. He wanted the explosion of taste in his mouth, the feeling of oil, and grease, and fat. He wanted to feel satisfied...to feel comforted. He wanted to feel nurtured.

As the food arrived, he took a deep breath. He just wanted to eat. No, stuff. And nothing was going to stop him.

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	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.**

"Sir?"

Arthur looked up. A small trolley was being pushed towards him. He noticed the scent of its contents first.

"Your dishes, sir." As they were laid on the tablecloth in front of him, he swallowed. He could see the rivers of rich coloured sauces; the lure of the lean cut meat; the vegetables, piled and glistening. He took in the fragrant rice, piled up and sitting there, invitingly. At the spring rolls, their crispness so pleasurable to teeth.

The obsequious waiters drifted away. Arthur picked up a spoon, and carefully, methodically, put rice onto his plate. As the rice settled in its cooling mound, he spooned the chicken, letting the honey coloured sauce drip tantalisingly over the pile. As sauce ran in rivets, he felt himself shudder. He dipped his fork in, and scooped up a small mouthful.

Taking a deep breath, he put the fork in his mouth.

As his teeth settled around the food, he felt his taste buds explode. The sensation...sweet, salty, cloying, rich...it tangled together, causing his nerves to tingle with excitement. He felt a sudden guilt, as though he were committing an obscene act in public. Chewing and swallowing, he dug his fork in, and scooped up another forkful.

The sensation was explosive. His usual careful measuring of fat, protein, carbohydrate, calories, how many he could have, how few, and when was suddenly obliterated. What mattered was not the careful mathematical grading of food - what mattered now was how much he could thrust into his mouth.

And when. One forkful became two. Two became four. Four became six.

* * *

"So what else has been happening?"

Ariadne swallowed. She was not sure why he always tried this gentle, beguiling tone. It sometimes felt as though she were talking to a young research professor - someone only just released into academia, teetering on the divide between arrogance and insecurity. She took a deep breath.

"Well...I have a new friend."

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "What sort? Someone who will be encouraging? Recovery is a hard road."

Ariadne swallowed. "Well, I..." she blinked, and looked down at her hands. "He's interesting. We met at the meetings I was going to. Am going to."

Lomas paused. "Be careful," he said, gently. "Please."

She looked at him. "Well-"

"Ariadne. You're trying to to recover from this awful, evil condition." Real feeling broke through the cool, measured facade, causing her to look up in surprise. "Is he accepting what's wrong?"

"I-well, I don't think so-"

"Don't put yourself in harm's way. Please."

Slightly shaken, she looked at him.

"I won't."

* * *

Arthur began to eat with rapidity. The sauce that glistened on the meat congealed on the fork, starting to drip over the crisp white tablecloth, staining it with the deep ruby scar of fresh blood. The lemon sauce contrasted with its pale, shimmering yellow. He sighed, and shoved it into his mouth.

A feeling of reckless abandon was starting to overcome him. He no longer cared that his digestive system, denied proper sustenance for too long, was starting to bloat in protest, the intestines struggling to cope with a sudden influx of rich, heavy food. He swallowed, realising that bile was beginning to rise.

He turned, and looked round. To his shock, he discovered that other diners were looking at him. Looking at the fat, greedy pig who had just managed to clear a table of enough food to feed three people.

He swallowed, choking down the bile. He looked at the table, suddenly horrified. It looked like the scene of a traffic accident. Reds, yellows, and oranges swirling together to create a putrid mass. Suddenly he saw meat, decomposing, rotting, on the plate. The rice - nasty little maggots threatening to choke him. He began to cough.

The diners looked over. He felt his face flame - the skin that was still visible, not covered with smears of sauce and lumps of food. He was worse than a child. A child could be forgiven gluttony. Not him. His stomach seemed to have expanded, bloating against his belt, making him feel enormous.

_I have to get it out. All of it. All of it!_

Swaying slightly, he began to make his way to the men's room. As he pushed open the door, he neither cared nor checked if anyone was standing at the urinals. He walked into a cubicle, and leaned over.

As he did so, he thrust his fingers down his throat.

He heaved, he retched. As it spewed out, he felt a sudden glimmer of satisfaction. He flushed, and turned to leave, suddenly realising that he hadn't bolted the door.

To his shock, Aidan was standing in front of him.

"Arthur?" his tone was gentle, noting the other man's flushed skin, how his collarbone poked up from under his shirt. "Arthur, are you ill? Do you-"

"Get away from me," Arthur said, hoarsely, putting his arm out. "Do you hear? Stay away!"

Moving quickly, he turned, and hurried out of the bathroom.

**All readers appreciated, and I'd love some reviews, thank you!**


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.  
**

"Arthur!" Aidan hurried after him, his own face flushing slightly. Arthur had stopped outside the men's room, taking a deep breath. The other man looked at him, his smooth, square features creased in concern. "Arthur, please, I'm only trying to help you. I mean, you were throwing up in there! Sure its not some form of stomach flu?"

Arthur blinked, and suddenly, looked at the other man with a new found grateful contempt. He didn't realise. Didn't know. Just thought he had a virus.

"It is, probably," Arthur said, nodding, his facial expression pained. "I've not been feeling good all day...very tired. Very tired."

Aidan nodded, and put a concerned hand on the other man's shoulder. To Arthur, it felt repulsive - a large cumbersome mass of flesh in which bones were buried. He narrowed his eyes, critically examining the other man's stocky, muscled frame. "I'm just...so..."

Aidan bit his lip. "Listen, you need to get home." He swallowed. "Come on, I'll help you get a cab."

"Oh, thank you." Arthur sounded pathetic to his own ears, but he noticed how Aidan's face was creased in sympathy.

The two men returned to the main dining hall, Arthur carefully counting out a few bills and leaving them on the table. As he began to leave, he did feel a quiver of nausea.

Side effect of purging.

"Oh, look," Aidan said, smiling. "Taxi!" A cab roared to the side of the road, and Aidan opened the door. As Arthur got in, he smiled and shut the door. "Take care, Art."

Arthur nodded, leaning forward to give the driver his address. "Thank you. And you."

As the cab moved away, Arthur leaned back, and sighed. That had been close. Too close. He swallowed, fighting down the sensation of bile in his throat. Vomiting in a restaurant toilet was one thing. Vomiting in the back of a taxi was simply undignified.

* * *

Ariadne swallowed and looked at Lomas. His face studied her, carefully.

"I'm not saying don't be his friend," he said, kindly. "I'm saying protect yourself. Don't let him suck you into his world"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you're coming here because you have an illness, and are admitting it. He's not."

Ariadne stood up, swallowing. "Well, I-"

"Protect yourself."

"I will."

"Same time next week?"

"Of course."

* * *

Arthur entered his apartment, feeling damp with sweat and nausea. He peeled off his suit jacket, and headed to the bedroom, before a spasm of nausea spread through his body. Feeling sick, he ran into the bathroom, and vomited. Vomited the last vestiges of food that he was sure still lurked inside him, bloating and twisting him into the grotesque monster he tried to avoid looking at.

He shuddered, and leaning over the toilet, rested his head on the procelain. He breathed deeply, then began to get up, determined to splash his face and rinse his mouth. As he did so, his stomach churned again. Choking, he spat out a final mouthful of bile, and collapsed next to the toilet, almost whimpering.

He waited, waited for his stomach to settle. He ran his hand over his torso, noting the shape and size of it. He closed his eyes, thinking back over the food he had consumed. The fat, the calories, the salt...he gagged, although there was nothing left for him to bring up.

He collapsed against the floor, running his hands over his torso. Was that a ripple of fat? He shuddered, and pressed his hands down experimentally. He could almost feel himself expanding, a result of the dead calories he'd just poured into himself.

He began to get up, wincing at the deep ache he felt in his guts. As he started to walk towards the bedroom, he heard a scraping sound. Ignoring it, he went and collapsed on the bed.

_I feel like a big fat pig. Therefore I am a big fat pig._

__He swallowed. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes. Aidan had been easy to fool...he was an idiot. But then most people were, so ready to believe him when he said that he had a stomach upset, or an allergy, or an intolerance that prevented him from eating. He frowned. They were weak. He wasn't. He was capable of going without.

He turned over, and his muscles clenched. He winced.

Suddenly, he heard a voice. "Arthur?"

He let his eyes close. Ariadne. She would help him. She needed to. She needed to help him get rid of the monster that lurked over his shoulder. She would comfort him, help ease his pain-

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and his eyes widened in shock.

Elena was standing over him.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

"Arthur?" Elena walked over to him, where he was stretched out on the bed. "Arthur what happened?"

"Nothing," he mumbled, his mouth tasting sour with both the lie and the residue of bile. "Nothing." He felt a slight shift, and realised she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He opened one eye, and looked over. She was sitting down, leaning over, biting her lip. "Arthur-" she looked as though she were struggling to find the words. "Aidan called me."

His eyes opened, and he began to sit up. "What?"

"Aidan called me," she replied, her mouth settling into an unhappy line. "He said you were ill. At a restaurant."

Arthur turned over. "He's wrong. I'm fine. I ate something that disagreed with me."

"Arthur, you never eat anything!"

He sat up, suddenly furious. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you never eat a damn thing!" Elena got up. Her expensive business suit was creased, and her make up streaked - he realised that she had clearly been crying. "You pick at food, and sit there, looking disapprovingly at everyone who eats!" She was beginning to get up, her distress spiralling into rage. "And you know what, Arthur? I know you think I'm seeing Aidan, but can you blame me? You never give me any emotional support, or any time, because you're so concerned about what does - or should I say what doesn't - go into your mouth!"

Arthur, slightly stunned, fell back, watching her pace angrily round the room, which suddenly felt too small for the two of them. Two small for the two of them and these sudden emotions.

"Elena-" He faltered, unable to defend himself in the face of her anger. "Elena-"

"What?" she snapped, turning to face him.

"Elena. Are you seeing Aidan?"

She stopped pacing, and turned to face him. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I saw the way he looked at you, as though you were some goddess standing on a pedestal." His voice was bitter, and he was now getting off the bed, turning to face her. "So, answer me this. Are you sleeping with him?"

Elena looked at him, her lip trembling. Then she raised her hand, and slapped him in the face.

"Thanks," he said, sourly.

"Well, what if I am?" she demanded, her voice roughened by anger. "We haven't had sex for months! Can you even bring yourself to do it anymore?!"

Arthur looked at her. "Want me to prove it?" he said, harshly. "Want me to prove I'm still a man?"

"No," she said, turning away. "I really don't want to touch you, or lie next to you."

"Why?" he snarled, his anger getting the better of him. "Because I'm too fat?"

"No!" she shouted, her voice rising with exasperation. "Because you're a bag of bones!"

Arthur looked at her, stunned. She shook her head, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just can't be near you."

Shocked, he turned his head, watching as she ran out of the room, the front door's slam echoing through the still space.

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	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne sighed as she neatly stacked the dishes. She had made a healthy meal - salad with tuna - and washed up. Now she felt she needed to do something else, to keep her mind from wandering to the thoughts of food.

She decided to work on her drafting. Lomas was encouraging her to set goals for herself. "Something you can achieve," he advised. "Something attainable."

She swallowed, and headed for her desk, which was in the tiny boxroom of her apartment. She reached into her bag, and pulled out the rolled up sheets. Spreading them out on her desk, she picked up her pencil, and began to draw the lines.

* * *

Arthur got out of the bed, his head spinning, his ears echoing with the sound of the slamming door.

He laid back down on the bed, and rubbed his face. Suddenly, he felt an urge.

He had to eat. Had to. His stomach was sore and protesting from the chinese food he'd eaten, but it wasn't enough. He felt hollow - hollow, and empty. He had to fill the emptiness he felt. He headed to the kitchen.

He rarely kept food in the apartment -but there was always enough for a binge. He smiled to himself, pleased that he'd had the sense to sneak out that morning to the grocery store. Going round the aisles, collecting the food he hadn't taken when he'd been spotted by Fischer...he'd resented being made to feel like a criminal.

Perhaps he was.

Opening the cupboard door, he began to pull out bread, and and a jar of peanut butter. Grabbing a knife, he pulled the peanut butter out of the jar in great lumps, dropping it onto the bread, patting it down. Rolling the bread up, he began to stuff it into his mouth.

After four slices, he reached for jelly, and started to spoon it into his mouth. The sweetness of the jelly contrasted sharply with the saltiness of the peanuts. Grabbing a glass, he filled it with water, and downed it.

Almost choking, he grabbed a packet of crackers. Without really thinking, he started to shove them into his mouth. He barely noticed the peanut butter smeared across the counter, the jelly deposited in blobs, the crumbs that were scattering everywhere. As the crackers disappeared, all he was aware of was a feeling of bliss.

* * *

Ariadne felt a small rumble in her stomach. She sighed. Don't get too hungry, Lomas had warned. Remember, he'd told her gently, you need to eat.

She swallowed. She had to eat a snack. Getting up, she went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Smiling, she reached inside and pulled out a banana. The fruit would satisfy her craving for something sweet.

"It feels as though I'm pregnant," she'd complained to Lomas. "I keep craving foods."

"Perfectly natural," he'd told her. "Your body is re-balancing itself. You will crave what it needs."

Peeling the banana, she swallowed. As she bit into it, she felt the sweetness explode on her tongue.

* * *

Arthur fought the nausea. The water was filling him with its own form of emptiness. Swallowing against it, he opened the refrigerator. Ice cream. Ripping the top of the pot, he dug the spoon in. After two spoonfuls, he decided he'd rather use his hands.

The coldness made him gag. Rushing to the sink, his stomach voided itself.

* * *

Ariadne finished her banana. The sweetness and tartness of the fruit had satisfied her cravings. Smiling, she got up, and dropped the peel in the trash. Time to brush her teeth, go to bed. As she ambled through the apartment, she thought of Arthur. Hopefully he was doing as well as she was.

* * *

Arthur lifted his head from the sink, feeling dizzy. Reaching out to grasp the edge, it slipped from his fingers, causing him to crash to the floor.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne pulled the covers up over herself, and sighed. The hot shower had relaxed her, although she had tried to avoid looking at her naked body. The sight of it moved her to feelings of shame, although she knew that it was illogical. But she couldn't help herself. Continual self-criticism had become a reflex action, something that seemed to happen without her even realising.

She swallowed, carefully balancing her kindle on her knees and beginning to sit up. She flicked the switch, and began to scroll, looking for her book of choice. She had bought the kindle to be able to download self-help guides without it being seen - the last thing she wanted was to be caught in a coffee shop reading a book like that.

She shuddered. Deep down, she knew she was embarrassed by her illness. Ashamed of it. Ashamed of herself. Other people, other young women her age, where able to go to restaurants, and to grocery stores, and to coffee shops, and buy and eat what they wanted without fearing criticism of scrutiny from anyone.

Or maybe they couldn't. Maybe there were others, many others, suffering in silence. She bit her lip, and began to read.

_"You need to remember you are beautiful, and unique."_

Ariadne nodded. Fair enough.

_"You are currently being held hostage by an awful, evil invader. He thinks he is your boyfriend, your lover, your husband. But would you ever let anyone as abusive as him into your life?"_

Ariadne swallowed. The attempt to almost humanise the disorder made her uncomfortable. Did Arthur think he was in a relationship with an abusive girlfriend?

She blinked. Arthur. He was in her mind. She sighed, trying to remember what Lomas had said. Not to let him in. To keep a safe distance. For her own sake.

She shook her head, and resumed reading.

_"He lies to you. He will always lie to you."_

Frustrated, Ariadne clicked off. She needed to sleep, and she also felt that thoughts of Arthur were crowding quickly into her mind. He was ill, she reminded herself. And in worst condition than her, as he seemed to steadfastly refuse to accept his illness. Putting the device aside, she began to crawl under the covers, hoping for sleep to come.

* * *

Cobb swallowed, and looked at his watch. 9am. Arthur was always in early - 8am, sometimes even half 7. It was not like him to be so late.

He shook his head. Chances are, he'd simply overslept. He did look exhausted, as though he never got enough sleep. Probably didn't - Cobb wondered if he was aware that the average human being needed at least 1000 calories a day merely to sleep. He shrugged. Arthur's calorie counting was tedious in the extreme.

Sighing, he checked his watch. He'd give him another half hour.

* * *

Ariadne walked, trying to maintain a consistent rhythm. She had responded to a friend's invitation to join her for a cup of coffee, and felt she needed to try and get back into normal social circulation. She had let her world shrink. Become smaller.

Too small.

She swallowed, and pushed the door open. Jenna was sitting at a table near the back, and smiled and waved as she saw Ariadne approach. The petite brunette walked over to her, and smiled. "Hi."

"Hey." Jenna watched as she approached. "Good to see you. What are you having?"

"Just an Americano," Ariadne responded, politely. Jenna nodded, and got up to place their order.

As her friend left the table, Ariane noticed another, slightly older woman sweeping in. Her face was long, but her features were striking. As she settled into a seat, she sniffled, slightly. Ariadne swallowed. Unable to stop herself, she leaned over. "Excuse me?"

The woman looked up. "Yes?"

"Are you...alright?" Ariadne cursed herself immediately. She sounded so...high school.

To her surprise, the woman smiled. "Thank you. You are sweet." She wiped her eyes. "It comes to something when a stranger asks you if you're ok, because the person in your life who should be there for you isn't."

Ariadne blinked, suddenly embarrassed. There was a vehemence in the woman's voice that she had not been prepared for. She swallowed, and turned away.

To her relief, Jenna appeared, carrying two ceramic cups. Ariadne smiled as they were placed in front of them. "There you go," Jenna said, cheerfully. "So, how are you?"

"I'm- getting there." Ariadne hesitated, but Jenna nodded. "Ariadne, you're doing really well." There was a sincerity in her voice that touched her. She smiled and put her fingers lightly on Jenna's hand. "Thank you."

Suddenly, a young man entered - square, stocky, with handsome but somehow indistinguishable features. She noticed the woman sitting near her got up. "Oh, Aidan!"

"Hi," He said, pulling her into an embrace. "I know, Arthur's completely out of it, and-"

"Will you keep your voice down?" she said, hurriedly, casting a look around. "Please?"

Ariadne felt herself stiffen. Arthur? Was this his...girlfriend?! She was stunned - the woman looked like a model, or an aspiring one. And sitting there discreetly sniffling into a handkerchief, she held an air that was slightly tragic.

Suddenly, she felt deeply embarrassed. But against her will, began to listen.

* * *

Cobb sighed and gently knocked on the apartment door. "Arthur?"

No response. Puzzled, and slightly annoyed, he tried again. "Arthur?"

Suddenly, he heard a choking sound, followed by a groan. Anxious, he used his elbow to force his way in.

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	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"I just don't know what to do." The woman's voice was followed by a discreet sniffle; Ariadne heard the man coo sympathetically and pat her arm.

"I mean - you called me, I went round there-" she paused, and Ariadne quickly lifted her cup, hoping her eavesdropping was not too obvious. Jenna was looking at her, her expression puzzled.

"And?"

"And he was on the bed. He looked bloated. But, you said-"

"I saw him eating vast amounts of Chinese food. Seriously, El, he was like a man possessed! Shovelling it in, getting it down his front - the people I were with all looked disgusted."

Ariadne held her breath. Arthur bingeing in public? She shuddered.

"And then you saw him-"

"In the men's room. It was so obvious he was - well, you know. El, think about it. The guy's a lost cause. He's killing himself and making us all watch. Such a spoiled brat, he really is. What does he think he is, a movie star that he's got to look after his figure for?!"

"I have no idea. But he's so...obsessive. When we first started dating, he'd cook for me, and push me to have larger portions. At first I thought he was a liberated man-" Ariadne heard her chuckle - "but now I realise he was trying to get me to eat more than him."

"He's such a-"

"Aidan, please."

"No, he is. He's a spoiled, whiny, self-centred, self-obsessed brat. Just leave him. You don't have to go back there. Don't respond to his messages, don't let him trap you again. You're worth more than that."

"Oh, Aidan, thank you."

"my pleasure. You're special, Elena."

"I-"

"No, you are. And you deserve better than that piece of work. You know, I'd call his Mom. Let her deal with him."

"He doesn't get on her with her."

"Well, sounds like he'll get what he deserves."

"I think he has someone else."

"What? Jeez, how did he pull that off?"

"When I went round there, he was nearly asleep. He called out 'Ariadne'?"

"Ariadne?" Aidan choked slightly. "Don't worry about it. Probably some fat girl he's found to stuff with ice cream while he turns into a bag of bones."

Ariadne sat, frozen, her jaw dropping slightly. Jenna patted her hand, a gentle act that brought her back to her senses. "Shall we go?"

Nodding, Ariadne grabbed her purse, and followed her out.

* * *

"Arthur!"

Cobb entered the kitchen, his face paling. Arthur, pale, his skin blotchy, was lying on the floor, groaning. He heaved, and vomited again, splattering the floor.

"Jesus, Arthur," Cobb muttered. Hurrying to the counter, he gabbed a wad of paper towels, and proceeded to wipe the slightly younger man's face. Arthur choked, his insides hurting again. "Dom- I-"

"Ssshhh," Cobb said, soothingly. "Just shhh. Come on. I'm calling an ambulance-"

"NO!" Arthur almost roared.

"You seem to think," Cobb said, tersely, "that you have a choice in the matter. You're ill. You're lying here, throwing your guts up. You're underweight. I am calling an ambulance. Accept it."

Arthur nodded, the fight had gone out of him. He heard Cobb talking, and then the man came back.

"They will be here. Is there anyone I can call?"

Arthur blinked. "No. One person."

"Your therapist?"

"Lomas? Oh, God, no. No, a young woman. But - I don't have her number."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Then who is it?"

"Girl I met. My support group."

"Arthur-"

"Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Nothing."

* * *

Ariadne entered the basement, and looked round. Eames was already there. "Well, hello," he said, pleasantly. She nodded "Hey there."

"So, is our friend Mr Suited and Booted turning up tonight?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "He told his girlfriend about me."

"What?!"

"Yeah. Now she thinks I'm some fat girl who will puff up for him." Ariadne rubbed her face.

"Now," Eames said gently. "Its the illness talking. You know that."

"What if I don't?"

* * *

"Oh, he's so thin!"

Arthur blinked, and tried to focus. He was lying in a hospital bed, he gathered, and concerned faces were peering over him. To his shock, he realised one of them was his mother's.

"You-"

"Dom called," she replied, stroking his hair. "I was in the city - I was on a shopping trip." Arthur pursed his lips - his mother had little to do all day except shop and play cards. She put her hand on his cheek. "Oh, you're so thin! But don't worry, they'll put meat on your bones, really!"

"They?!"

"Yes, here!"

"I'm not-"

"Arthur, you'll do as you're told."

Trapped and helpless, he closed his eyes.

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	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.**

"You shouldn't worry about him," Eames chided. "He's not your problem."

Ariadne bit her lip. "I know...its the same thing my therapist says."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Your therapist?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Well, listen to us then." Eames walked over to the table offering tea and coffee, and angrily jammed a tea bag into a plastic cup. "He's bad news. He'll never recover. He doesn't want to."

"That's a little judgemental," Ariadne countered, stung by the aggression of Eames' reaction. He began to pour hot water on the bag, poking it with a spoon, before adding milk. He tossed the bag into the trash, before grimacing at the milky liquid inside the cup.

"I'm thinking of you." Eames shook his head. "Thinking of you and the fact that you could be setting yourself up with this guy. He's..." Eames shrugged helplessly. "He's- "

Ariadne shook her head. "He's- you're right. Who knows, really?"

Eames fell silent and took a sip of tea. Ariadne, dejected, wandered over with her cup of coffee to sit in the circle.

* * *

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and groaned. His mother was hovering over him, anxiously. He shook his head. "Mom, please-"

"Arthur you collapsed," his mother said, in a hushed voice. "And when you arrived here, you were covered in vomit-" she pressed a hand to her mouth. "What have you been doing?"

"Its just stomach flu," he replied, coldly. His words were spiked with dislike. "Look, I have to get out of here." He began to push the covers back, and his mother leaned forward, pulling them back up.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Arthur, you're not going anywhere. I've agreed for you to be in here for a few days. They want to carry out some observations." She looked at him, her face pale. "You're not well, surely you can see that."

"Its just a stomach bug," he said, testily. "Really. Cobb panicked."

"Cobb told me that it was more than that."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. He told me that you've not been eating properly for months, you've been exercising too much-" she shook her head. "Arthur, there's a name for this. An-"

"Yes, thanks. I'm a thirty two year old male professional. Do you think I'd have an illness only teenage girls get?" he glared at her.

"Well, that's got to be the most ignorant comment I've hear all day."

Arthur blinked, and looked at the young woman who had just entered. Dark blonde hair, stylishly cut, framed her face. She was wearing a black business suit, and over which, a white coat. "Seriously."

Arthur shook his head. "You are-?"

"I'm Louisa Wolfe. I'm the doctor who has been assigned to you, and frankly, Mr Ogilvie, I would advise you to get back into that bed." She smiled. "You're not going anywhere."

Arthur, furious, glared at her. "Listen, Dr Wolfe. I am an adult. I will do as I please. And what I want to do is head out of here, and go home. Is that too much to ask?"

"At the moment, yes." Wolfe's manner was pleasant and amiable, but there was a steely undertone which suggested she had stopped more difficult patients than him walking out. "Mr Ogilvie, you are underweight by at least 30lbs. Your lack of body fat is concerning - in fact, if you were a woman, I would be advising you that you would be unable to menstruate."

Arthur folded his arms. "Well, guess its a good thing I'm not a woman."

"But...you are possibly experiencing some sexual dysfunction right now." She was speaking as casually as though she were telling him his visa was about to bounce. "You re possibly experiencing a lack of libido, and this is natural."

Arthur's face was flaming. "How dare you-"

"Mr Ogilvie. You are ill. You need care." She was looking at him, an expression that brooked no nonsense. "You continue like this, you will cause even greater damage to yourself."

"Oh, really?" Arthur's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You'll just try and fatten me up - has it occurred to you that I might like the way I look? That I don't want to look like an obese blob, like most of the population?!"

"Mr Ogilvie-"

"No, just listen. I have no intention of staying here."

"Please get back into bed."

"NO!"

"Do I have to call for assistance?"

Arthur's eyes widened. Her voice was completely calm - a sign she intended to back up her words with actions, if necessary. Stunned, Arthur began to meekly climb back into bed.

"That's right." she nodded. "I'll be back in half an hour."

Shaking slightly, Arthur watched as she walked away. His mother soothed the covers over him. "Please, Arthur. Just do as they say."

Arthur felt frozen. He no longer felt he had a choice.

* * *

Ariadne sighed. She was desperate to leave. She began to shoulder her bag, and turned to Eames. "See you soon."

"I'll walk you out."

As she began to leave, she noticed another man had arrived. He was blonde, well dressed, and approaching people. One person pointed in her direction.

Her heart sinking, she watched as he began to walk towards her.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.**

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and turned his head. A young male nurse was standing near him, looking slightly nervous. Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Yes?" he snapped, annoyed at the young man's informality.

"I've been told to - uh- ask what you want to drink."

"Nothing." He turned his face to the wall, trying to ignore him.

"But you have to-" the nurse's confidence was crumbling. Arthur smiled to himself.

"I have to what?" he asked, innocently.

"Drink fluid."

"All right." Arthur turned over. "Water, please."

"Um, it has to have something with calories in it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Arthur shook his head. "No thanks."

"Look, I'll have to report you-"

"To what? To the doctor?" Arthur's voice had taken on a slightly aggressive tone - he glared at the nurse, who couldn't be more than 23. "Well, why don't you do that. Just run along and tell. Go on, good boy!"

The nurse looked stunned. His cheeks visibly stained crimson as he turned and hurried away. Arthur pulled up the covers, and turned to his side.

Without thinking, he moved his hand down to his torso, under the sheets. He began to carefully move it over his stomach, his protruding hip bones. He winced. Lying here, it would disappear. His stomach would balloon out, his hips would become smothered in a thick coating of-

He turned over, glaring at the ceiling. He couldn't stay here. He just couldn't.

* * *

"Um, Ariadne?" he asked, nervously.

Ariadne blinked. The man looked well fed, and healthy - why was he here? But then, she reminded herself with a little jab, she had thought the same of Eames, only to discover he was grieving the break up of a relationship with a bulimia sufferer. He was smiling, but there was no disguising the worried look in his eyes.

"Yes. How may I help you?" she asked, politely.

"Well, this is a little...delicate." Cobb bit his lip. With her fair skin and thick dark hair, her eyes framed by a smattering of freckles, the young woman was far prettier than he had imagined, but, he remembered, Arthur was a harsh judge on how everybody looked.

Especially himself.

"Well, who are you?" she persisted.

Cobb blinked. "Oh, where are my manners? Dom Cobb." He smiled and they shook hands. "We have a mutual friend in common."

Ariadne looked at him. "Arthur?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Yes." Cobb bit his lip. "Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

"Well, I was about to go home." She sounded defensive, but, she realised, she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than a hot cleansing shower and a hot chocolate - if only to prove to herself that she could drink it without worrying about the calorie content sliding down her throat.

"I'll drive you." Cobb bit his lip, and she looked at him. "I know this is an intrusion - but I really need to talk to you."

She nodded. Cobb seemed genuine, and she noticed there was a real concern in his eyes. "All right. Its about a twenty minute drive."

"No problem. Just give me directions."

* * *

"OK, what are you having?"

Arthur blinked. Another male nurse was standing in front of him - but this was not the young, easily cowed one from before. This one was easily ten years older, and had a facial expression that could have been carved from granite.

"I-" Arthur swallowed.

"Its really simple." The nurse narrowed his eyes. "You do as we ask you. You need to drink high calorie fluids. Now, what is it going to be?"

"I-" Arthur blinked. "Apple juice."

"There. Was that so hard?"

Arthur wanted to scream that it was. He shuddered as the yellowish, faintly smelling liquid was handed to him. He swallowed.

"No. Take a sip."

"In front of you?"

"Yes."

Arthur lifted the glass, and took a sip. The liquid slid down his throat, making him shudder. He winced, and the nurse nodded.

"That's it. Again please."

Arthur looked at him. "Again?"

"Yes. Now."

* * *

"Would you like some coffee?"

Cobb nodded. "Please." He looked round the small apartment, noting the pale walls, decorated with art prints and photographs. Paperbacks were stacked on the coffee table, and a small stereo was surrounded by CDs.

"Do sit down!"

Cobb did so, and as he did, a wave of weariness washed over him. He closed his eyes, wondering briefly where to begin. He'd explained to Mal what he was doing, and she'd looked at him, foreboding in her large, dark eyes.

"Please be careful Dom," she'd said, softly. "What if Arthur -" she'd stopped, shaking her head.

Cobb had finished the sentence mentally. "What if Arthur manipulates her as he does to everyone else?" He shook his head, and reached for his wallet, pulling out some photos.

It was of him and Arthur. It had been taken a couple of years previously. Cobb smiled, noting the way his hair fell into his face, and his shirt pulled slightly around his stomach. He'd been heavier...and healthier. In fact, Mal had teased him about his weight. He remembered when Arthur had come over for dinner. It had started off as a pleasant evening between friends...until Mal had brought the dessert out.

"Cheesecake?" she'd asked. Arthur had nodded. "Please."

Cobb had smiled. Arthur's sweet tooth was well known throughout the office. He was often seen munching on pastries, or candy bars - but, he thought with mild irritation, he never seemed to gain any weight. Fast metabolism, he thought, with a tinge of jealousy.

"There you are," Mal had said, sliding the slice off onto Arthur's plate. She settled back in her seat. "Its good to see you with some meat on your bones, Arthur."

Arthur stopped chewing. "What?"

"Well, you were so thin-" Mal paused, suddenly aware of the faint crimson flush travelling up Arthur's cheeks. "But now you-"

"look fat?" Arthur asked. There was almost a tinge of hostility in his voice. Cobb looked at him, swallowing.

"No!" Mal protested, embarrassed. "You look good, Arthur! Really!"

"I look good with some weight?" he commented, his tone bordering on sarcastic.

"Yes," Mal said, quietly. "I didn't mean anything, I-"

"No, its fine," Arthur said, still eating the cheesecake. Cobb had finally begun to relax, but now the exchange was preying on his mind, magnified.

"Dom?"

He blinked. Ariadne stood in front of him with two mugs. "Coffee?"

"Lovely." He took a mug, and Ariadne sat down. She looked at Cobb, tentatively. "Well?"

"Well," Cobb began. "This is what I think happened."

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	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. Short chapter, but needed to move the story on. **

"So, Arthur." Ariadne hesitated, as though afraid of offending Cobb. But he seemed open enough to want to talk. He was balancing the coffee mug on his knee, his eyes alert.

"Well, Arthur..." Cobb swallowed. "Arthur came to work at my company five years ago. He was lean then. But not thin."

Ariadne nodded. Looking at Cobb's concern, she felt a sudden pang twist her heart. This man cared. Clearly cared. And Arthur was just pushing him away.

"I don't know how it started...it seemed to creep up, very gradually. Arthur was hard working when he joined, but he became almost obsessional. Staying later than everyone else, not really looking after himself." Cobb shook his head. "He started living on take out sandwiches and food, and gained a little weight. Not really noticeable, but if you'd known him a long time, you would." He paused. "I'm sorry, this isn't really making any sense."

"No, its fine." Ariadne took a sip of coffee. There was a slight change to Cobb's demeanour, there was almost a trace of guilt in his voice. "I noticed. Which I regret."

"Why?"

"I made a comment." Cobb's grip on the mug tightened. "I was out with him at a business lunch - we had a couple of other colleagues with us. Arthur ordered, and ate as though it was going to be taken away from him. I commented that he should steady on, it didn't look as though he were starving."

"And what happened?" Ariadne was both intrigued, but also slightly repelled. The fragility of someone else had never been exposed to her this way before. She was almost afraid of the answer.

"He put the fork down, and looked as though he wanted to spit out what was in his mouth." Cobb shuddered. The memory was still as fresh and vivid as it had been the day it happened. "I didn't know where to look."

"But, then, afterwards-"

"Oh, it got worse." Cobb swallowed. "He started refusing to come to lunches, dinners. Always had an excuse -stomach upset, food allergy - all of them. Started exercising too much." He shook his head. "I began inviting him to dinner, my wife commented on how much he'd lost. What we didn't realise is he took that as encouragement."

Ariadne swallowed. "Well, I-"

"Look, I feel guilty." Cobb was rubbing his face. "And I need you to-"

"Cobb, listen." Ariadne finally interrupted him, her voice firm. "Please, listen to me. I'm not doing so well myself right now. I'm not sure seeing Arthur will help him - or me."

"Ariadne. Arthur mentioned your name - you, specifically." There was a tinge of desperation in Cobb's voice. "I think you might be able to reach out to him, help him."

"Cobb, I am trying to recover myself." Ariadne swallowed. "I doubt my therapist would be impressed about this. You can't pressure me to help Arthur- I'm still in treatment myself!"

"I'm not trying to pressure you," Cobb said, quickly. "I just think that-"

"Listen, I don't know why you're here, but its not going to work." Ariadne's voice was firm. "I don't know why Arthur wants me to see him, but I doubt it will do him anygood, or me. Now, please leave."

Cobb opened his mouth, then closed it. "All right, I will." He got up, stiffly. "Thank you. But here is my cell phone number," he added, thrusting a piece of paper at her - "in case you change your mind."

Wordlessly, Ariadne watched as he turned and headed towards the door. As he let himself out, she sat down, not realising that she was shaking.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

"This is outrageous!"

The nurse sitting behind the desk looked at Arthur, and dropped her eyes. Clearly, she had been instructed to not communicate with him - a move that outraged Arthur even more. Scowling, he walked over and started to bang his hands on the desk.

"Please!" She looked at him, her face a mixture of annoyed and afraid. "Please, stop that!"

"Let me use the phone!" he barked. His voice had roughened, and his features had contorted. She shook her head. "Please, Sir, you need to go back to bed."

"I do not need to go back to bed!" Arthur almost screamed. "Let me use the phone! You took my cell phone! I need to call my girlfriend! Let me-"

Suddenly, Wolfe appeared. She frowned. "What's going on?!

"What's going on?!" Arthur was speechless. "I just want to call my girlfriend, that's all! And I'm not being allowed to, and-"

"Go back to bed."

"I want to-"

"Go back to bed, or I will get staff to sedate you."

"What?" He blinked, slightly stunned. "I-"

"Arthur. I am telling you this directly." She shook her head. "Please, you need to go back to bed. You are ill, and at the moment, not in a position to make your own choices."

"But I-" he paused, suddenly ashamed as hot tears began to scorch down his cheeks. "I just want to talk to her, let her know-"

"The worst thing you can do right now is try and initiate contact with someone who knows you are ill, someone who may have tried to help you." Wolfe's voice was gentle, as though trying to placate his obvious distress. "Please. Come on. Back to bed."

Sniffling, feeling as though he embarrassed and exposed himself, Arthur went back to his room. A male nurse took his elbow - but gently, as though feeling the tension. Quietly, Arthur allowed himself to be put back into bed. He swallowed, and the nurse looked at him.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No," Arthur whispered, softly. He closed his eyes, trying to drift into sleep.

* * *

Cobb walked along the streets, his thoughts churning. Ariadne's recitance to see Arthur was understandable - but, he felt, someone needed to see him. As he walked, he realised that there was someone he could see.

Hurrying to the corner, he hailed a cab, and gave directions.

* * *

Elena, freshly showered and wrapped in a silk robe, was in the lounge of her apartment. She stretched out on the couch, closing her eyes. Being here, rather than at Arthur's, felt liberating. For too long, he and the relationship had started to feel like a burden. Then a weight.

She couldn't handle him anymore. She rubbed her face, and shook her head. He was too consumed by his illness, too unwilling to listen to anything she said. And he was embarrassing. They'd had several fights in restaurants, caused by his extreme pickiness - the food was too hot, or too cold, or there was too much of it. Or he'd eaten without saying anything, ordering dishes as though they were going out of fashion. She remembered one meal where she had sat there, aghast, as he had demolished two desserts.

"Arthur, please!"

"Don't you want me to eat?" he challenged, automatically, his eyes not leaving hers. She'd shuddered, unable to think that this stranger was the sweet, gentle natured man she'd met a year previously.

She closed her eyes. He'd been so different. Considerate. Courteous. A gentleman. Even in their moments of intimacy, he'd asked her how she felt. But now...

...it was as though he wasn't even there.

She swallowed, rubbing her face. Watching him waste away and fade had been heartbreaking. He'd been lean, cut. Then he'd become thin. And now thinness was slipping into scrawniness. And what came after that?

She shuddered.

The illness. She'd caught him standing in front of the mirror, frowning. And also grabbing at himself, pinching imaginary folds of flesh, rolls of fat. "Its disgusting," he would mutter, sourly. "Disgusting."

"Its not real."

"You think that?" He'd looked at her, suspicion and mistrust on his face. "You have to sleep with this every night."

"And I love you." She'd bit her lip as the words had left her mouth, as his face had gone progressively redder. "Oh, really?! You love this? You lying-"

She'd felt herself shake as he'd turned and stormed out.

Elena reached for her wine glass. Arthur. He was in trouble. He was in pain. But she couldn't help him.

The intercom for her apartment buzzed. She got up. Ignoring it, she headed into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

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	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Elena rubbed her face. It was late, and all she wanted was to go to bed, and crash. But the doorbell had rung, and she knew she felt obliged to answer it.

Swallowing, she approached, making sure that her silk robe was tied in the middle. As she opened the door, she blinked.

"Dom."

"Elena."

The two stood, looking at each other. He felt slightly embarrassed; she, a rush of irritation mixed with worry. Cobb's features were downcast, and he was biting his inside lip.

"Come in."

As she turned from the door, he followed her, thankful that she was prepared to go this far. He suddenly felt mentally unprepared for the ensuing conversation - he realised that what he knew about her and Arthur's relationship was purely from the other man's side.

"Scotch?"

He blinked. "Please," he said, politely, remembering his manners. As she poured the amber liquid, she turned her head. "On the rocks?"

"Neat."

She chuckled wryly. "Difficult evening?"

"You could say."

She nodded. "Well, its not been too good here, either." She handed him the glass, a small measure in a glass for herself. She sat down, carefully, tucking one leg under her. "If you want to know."

Cobb blinked. "Elena-"

"Let me show you something," she interrupted. Setting down the glass, she got up, and walked to a small cabinet. Pulling the door open, she pulled out a couple of paper envelopes. Walking back over to Cobb, she handed them to him.

"Take a look."

Cobb opened the packet, and blinked. Photographs. Of her and Arthur. A much healthier looking Arthur, complete with dimples. He swallowed, running his thumb over the photo. "When was this taken?"

"About eleven months ago." She took a sip of scotch. "We went on holiday. To Mexico."

"I remember."

"It was odd...he ate what he liked." She took another sip. "And it didn't seem to bother him. Guacamole, tortillas - you name it, he ate it. He didn't count calories or fat grams."

"So what changed?" Cobb sipped the scotch, feeling it burn a path to his stomach.

She shrugged. "A comment I made."

"What?"

"Cobb, there are things about mine and Arthur's relationship that I don't like discussing with everyone." She spoke neutally, but there was a steely edge to her voice. "He put on a couple of pounds. Normal, it was a vacation." She shrugged. "But, we were lying in bed together-" she paused, blushing scarlet. "And I was grabbing him round his waist."

"And?"

"I just commented, 'you're looking a little porky.'" She swallowed, embarrassed. "He went silent. I tickled his stomach, and he turned away."

"Sure he wasn't just tired?"

"No." She bit her lip. "I tried to get close to him after that, but he turned on his side, and would not even let me touch him." She took a sip of scotch, her hand trembling. "He kept on rubbing his hand over his side, and pinching the flesh."

Cobb shuddered. "What else?"

She blinked. "I don't know if I should show you this."

She pulled a photo out and tossed it to Cobb. He blinked, slightly shocked.

It was of Arthur. Stretched out, on the bed, clad only in a pair of silk boxer shorts. His ribs were clearly visible, and his stomach looked sunken. Cobb sucked in his breath.

"Does he know you took this?"

"No. He was asleep." She rubbed her face. "Dom. I can't go and see him. I just can't. It would feel as though-" She paused, shaking her head. "I feel as though this is my fault. I can't live with it."

"But he wants to see you!" The words sounded feeble to Cobb. "Elena, please!"

"But how can I when I think I'm-" she put the glass down, shaking her head. "Leave, Dom. Please."

His lips tightening, Cobb put the glass down, and began to get up. He turned to her, swallowing.

"He didn't develop this because you made a comment. This was building for years. You might have triggered it, but there are numerous things that could have happened."

"Such as?" she challenged.

"Work, family - all are triggers. But-"

"Please. Just leave."

* * *

Arthur turned his head on the scratchy pillow. He needed to talk to Elena. Wanted her to reassure him. But, no response. As though she had already cut him out of her life.

He huddled down, shivering. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts of he and her together. The comments she had made. Would Ariadne ever say something like that? Closing his eyes, ignoring the gnawing of hunger in his stomach, he tried to fall asleep.

**I love reviews, if you could leave one it would be great, thank you!**


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur sighed and thumped back against the pillows. His back hurt, and he needed to move. He swallowed, thinking of the calories that he had ingested for the last couple of days. Forced to lie down, not allowed to get up, and hooked to a drip. Plus being forced to drink calorie packed liquids.

He shook his head. He had to leave. Otherwise, his body would be ruined. Furious, he began to push the covers back, and swung his legs round. He had to go. He wasn't staying here.

As he got up, he felt a wave of dizziness, but ignored it. Walking forward, he started to look for his clothes.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur nearly jumped. Wolfe stood in the doorway, her eyes raking over him. He glared at her. "Leaving."

"Really? You're still 25lbs underweight. You leave, your health will suffer."

"My health is suffering." An ugly look was twisting Arthur's face. "Thanks to all the calories that you and your minions are pumping into me!" He smoothed the gown down, over his flat stomach. "Look!"

She looked, and raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing there." She shook her head. "Arthur, please, your still very thin."

"If I stay here I'll be an elephant in no time," he snapped. "Let me go!"

"No." She shook her head.

"I'm an adult!"

"Arthur. Your mother has signed a care order."

He blinked, reeling as though she'd slapped him. "What?!" He stared at Wolfe, hate starting to flare within him. "She has signed what?"

"A care order." It was delivered calmly, efficiently, as though she were handing him an Americano he'd ordered. "Your mother does not think you're capable of taking care of yourself, and therefore, she has instructed us to keep you here for as long as is necessary."

Feeling his self control begin to collapse, Arthur sank back down on the bed. Wolfe shook her head, and began to walk out.

* * *

"Ariadne?"

Ariadne looked up. Professor Miles was smiling at her, kindly. She frowned slightly. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you," he said, gently. "Shall we go to my office?"

She got up, gathering her books and notepad to her chest. She was wearing baggy clothes again, but more for comfort. She remembered what Lomas had said - "dress to please yourself. Not what it is telling you to do." Shrugging her bag onto her shoulder, she continued to follow him. As they reached his office, she noticed he was directing her to a seat.

"Please," he said, smiling, then proceeded to pour coffee into mugs from the ever present filter machine. He handed one to her, and she accepted it gratefully. "Thank you."

"I wanted to talk to you," he said, carefully, "about Arthur."

She nearly dropped the coffee cup she was holding. "Oh?"

"I should explain." Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dom Cobb, Arthur's boss, and best friend, is also my son-in-law. He and I spoke last night. And you came up in the conversation."

Ariadne sat, frozen. This conversation was taking a turn she did not like. She looked down into the coffee.

"Dom is convinced that you can help Arthur." Miles' tone was serious. "I'm not too sure. He is very ill - he simply won't accept that he has an illness." Miles took a sip of coffee. "And to be frank, I think leaving him in the hands of the professionals is the best thing for him."

Ariadne swallowed. Miles was saying this calmly, but she could detect the undertone of concern. She lifted her own mug to her lips.

"I've known Arthur for about five years. I went over to Dom and Mal's - he and his girlfriend were there. He seemed pleasant enough, but a little intense." Miles' expression was thoughtful, almost sad. "But he ate."

"Really?" Ariadne asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Indeed he did. And possibly more than anyone else." Miles sank back into his chair. "But, that has changed. And now he's killing himself. But, he does not need you to help him."

Ariadne took another sip of coffee. "But isn't that my decision?"

"Ariadne. How do you feel about yourself right now?"

She blinked. "Well, life is getting better." She took a long swallow of coffee. "I feel that I'm in control of my life more. I'm attending here, pushing my grades up -"

"Exactly." Miles nodded, his eyes kind. "You have started to recover, and recover properly. The last thing you need is Dom pressuring you to help Arthur. He is where he should be, and so are you. So, let's keep it like that."

Ariadne nodded, feeling slightly vexed. She wasn't sure whether to appreciate the older man's caring, or to feel annoyed that he was trying to make decisions for her. She swallowed. "All right."

"Good." Ariadne stood up, put her coffee cup aside, and began to head to her next class.

* * *

Cobb swallowed. He'd seen Ariadne. Seen Elena. Even spoken to his father in law, Ariadne's professor. But he hadn't spoken to Arthur, and as he approached the cool, clinical building of the hospital, felt a sense of nervous dread. As he entered, he smiled.

The receptionist looked up at him. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to see Arthur Ogilvie, please."

The receptionist frowned, and ran through the database. "You can, but only for twenty minutes. He's on restricted visits."

Cobb frowned, biting his lip. "Any reason for that?"

"Not especially - standard procedure." She nodded. "He's in room 232. Upstairs."

Cobb turned and began to walk. As he reached the elevator he realised that he was nervous. He'd seen Arthur turn into someone else, and it was not someone he particularly liked. As he pushed the door open, his heart sank.

"No, I will NOT eat that!" Arthur was practically screaming, and Cobb, as he looked through the open door, saw him on his feet, almost trying to intimidate a young nurse. She was standing frozen, looking shocked. The face of the younger man was twisted into something almost ugly.

"I was told to bring you this, and-"

"Oh, for Christ's sake! Has it ever occurred to you to not do what you're told?! I am NOT eating it! Now take it, and get out!"

"Please, the doctor says you need to eat, and-"

"Which doctor? Wolfe? She doesn't know anything!" A note of triumph was in his voice now. "She-"

Cobb had heard enough. He stepped inside, and spoke firmly - the same tone he used to his children if their behaviour was pushing boundaries. "Arthur. Enough!"

Arthur turned, and glared. "Cobb." He slunk back to the bed, his expression cold. Cobb swallowed. As the nurse picked up the tray, and hurried outside, he cleared his throat.

"Arthur. That was completely unnecessary."

"You don't know what it's like." He threw himself backwards. "I need to get out of here. They're trying to feed me like I'm a battery chicken."

"They're trying to help."

"No, they're not. They just want me as fat and flabby as everyone else." He sighed. "I need to get out of here. I need to leave."

Cobb bit his lip. "I saw Elena."

"Yes?" Arthur propped himself up. "Is she coming to see me?"

Cobb realised he could not lie. "No."

Arthur's face crumpled slightly. "No?"

"No."

"What about Ariadne?" his face now contained a spark of hope, but Cobb knew that would be crushed.

"She doesn't think its a good idea-"

He was cut off. A long, low wail was erupting from Arthur - his shoulders were heaving. Cobb walked over, and placed an arm around him, noting the thinness of the bony shoulders.

"It will be ok," he said, soothingly. But, as he felt the isolation of the man, conveyed in wracking sobs, he had never felt more unsure.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. Many thanks to the lovely people who left reviews on the last chapter - anonymous guest, I'd like to thank you in a PM but can't as you're not logged in!**

Ariadne carefully rinsed her dish, then stacked it on the drier. Wiping her hands, she began to walk into the lounge of her apartment. Reaching for the paperback on the table in front of her, she opened it, and began to read.

She kept her mind firmly focused on the book. She refused to think about Arthur. Or Miles. Or the rest of this complex situation. He needed help, he needed care. He was getting it. That's all she allowed herself to think.

She stubbornly focused on reading the words in front of her. Refusing to acknowlege how they were beginning to blur and go out of focus. She lifted her hand.

It as useless. She was sitting here, crying. Crying over a man she could not help. Swallowing, she wiped her eyes, and decided to make herself some herbal tea. Good for the stomach, she reminded herself. And hopefully, her mind.

As she was in the kitchen, her cell phone rang. Biting her lip with annoyance, she picked it up, out of her pocket. "Hello?"

"Ariadne? Miles."

She was surprised to hear from him - casting a glance at the clock, she noticed it was close to 9pm. "Miles. What's up?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. A needle of suspicion was prickling down her spine, making her cautious.

"Its...Arthur." Miles' tone was quiet. "Dom rang me. Apparently he's been ranting, raving - they've had to consider restraining him. Ariadne, the only person who might be able to help him, is you."

She walked back into the lounge, and sank down on the couch. Her legs had suddenly felt wobbly. "Miles - I thought you wanted me to stay away from him?"

"I did." The older man sounded regretful. "But he's in such a state at present- he needs someone."

She swallowed. "When should I see him?"

"How about now?"

"Now?" Shocked, she almost dropped the phone. "But, Miles, its getting late-"

"I can pick you up. Please?"

She bit her lip. "I have a class tomorrow-"

"Which I'm running. So I think you can miss it."

Ariadne had to hide a smile. Miles really did think through all the angles. "Well, I guess I have no choice."

Miles chuckled. "No, I don't think you have."

* * *

Cobb swallowed as he approached the room. "How is he?" he asked Wolfe.

She raised an eyebrow. "Bordering on psychotic." She shook her head. "If he doesn't calm down, he's going to do himself serious damage. His mineral balance is shot, his heart is weakened. His loss of muscle mass has affected his heart as well as the rest of his body. He needs to stop this."

Cobb bit his lip. Arthur was pacing across the room. "Can't you restrain him?"

"Love to." She raised her eyebrows at him, and against himself, he smiled ruefully. "Except restraining can only be done if he attacks my staff. I don't think he's going to do that, but he's currently in danger of hurting himself."

Cobb shook his head. "That's more likely."

Suddenly, he hear footsteps. Turning his head, he felt his face collapse into a smile of pure relief.

* * *

Arthur was pacing. Relentlessy. He had refused water, and also threatened to rip out the IV. The young nurse was eyeing him, warily.

"What's wrong?" Arthur almost snarled.

"I just think you should-" the nurse swallowed. Her facial expression was one of near fear. "I think you should just sit down."

"NO!" He almost screamed. "I won't, and-"

Suddenly, the door opened. He blinked.

Standing before him was Ariadne. She was biting her lip, and looking at Arthur. He frowned, his brows lowering, then proceeded to walk to the bed, almost slumping on it.

"I'll get some water," the nurse said, quickly, hurrying out of the room. Arthur nodded, not even bothering to speak.

"Ariadne." He spoke, stiffly. "Why are you here?"

"I was-"

"Asked? I'm not a charity case."

"No, you're not, but your ill." She regretted the words falling from her mouth - they sounded so trite, so banal. Arthur was stretched out on the bed, gazing at the ceiling. His facial features seemed to be sagging off his cheekbones.

"Apparently I am. So ill my girlfriend does not even want to see me." She caught the shudder of a tear in his voice. "But then, my mother has put a care order on me. So I may as well stay here."

"But..." she looked at him. He seemed so lost. So different from the arrogant individual she'd met at the meeting. "But what if you want to leave?"

"I can't." A tear was running down his face. "Unless there's someone to - take care of me."

"I'll do it."

He looked at her, shocked. "What?"

"Arthur. We can get you out of here." A wave of pity for him had washed over her. "We can leave. You'll stay with me."

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur undid the inner door lock of the cab, and looked up. Ariadne's apartment block was old, he noted, and weathered. He swallowed. Being here would be hard. But it couldn't be worse than being in hospital.

He shuddered as he climbed out, and paid the driver, with a generous tip. As he approached the building, he felt a sense of dread. Ariadne had insisted that this would be the best thing - and his mother had made it impossible for him to go home by himself. He walked towards the main door, feeling a tremor of weakness in his legs. He cursed under his breath -his muscles still felt weak, and shaky.

As he opened the front door, and headed for the elevator, he swallowed. He felt heavy, bloated. They had insisted on feeding him at the hospital, feeding him non-stop. Breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack. And the glasses of fluid. He grimaced. Most of the food had been calorie laden, fat laden...he shuddered, fighting a wave of nausea.

As the elevator crawled up, he swallowed. What Ariadne thought she could achieve...he shook his head. He leaned his head back against the metal.

His mother had been furious. Almost shouting in his face. "You're killing yourself, Arthur. Look at you! Your skin and bones! And what about Elena? How must she feel? You'll never get married Arthur, you'll never have children..."

At this point, his mother had burst into noisy tears. Furious, Arthur had watched her as she'd left.

The elevator bumped, and he blinked. He was at the right level. Trying to clear his head, he grabbed his bag, and began to leave. Pausing outside Ariadne's door, he waited. Then, knocked.

After a few seconds, the door opened. She smiled when she saw him. "Hi."

"Hi," he mumbled. He felt bashful, like a teenager asking a girl to the prom. "Come in," she said, gently.

As Arthur walked in, he swallowed. Her apartment was smaller than his, and decorated with a cobbled together mish mash of furniture. He looked round, at the slightly battered second hand dressed, the shabby looking couch. But it was cosy. Far cosier than his impeccably streamlined apartment.

"You'll be sleeping in here."

He blinked. There was a small bedroom, with a bookcase. And a single bed.

"My room is next door," Ariadne explained, blushing. "The kitchen is through the lounge."

"Thanks," Arthur mumbled, not knowing where to look. Ariadne blinked. "Arthur-"

"This is only for a couple of weeks," Arthur said, hastily. "That's all. Nothing else. Its just so my mother realises that I'm capable of living my own life, right?"

Ariadne nodded. "Of course."

"Good," he muttered. Quietly, he walked into the bedroom, lying down on the bed.

**Thank you for reading, please review! I'll be away for the next couple of weeks - take care until then! xx**


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. Sorry for the wait!**

"Arthur?"

He blinked, and began to sit up, wincing slightly. His stomach muscles felt sore, and so did his back. He pulled his legs over to the side of the bed, and sighed. Ariadne's sweet, low voice was penetrating his conciousness.

"Yes?" he called back, trying to keep his voice steady. He looked round the small room - compared to his large bedroom, it felt like a cell. He began to get up, placing his feet on the floor, and walked to the door.

Ariadne was smiling at him, gently, and he couldn't help but respond. "Hi."

"Listen, I'm making some tea. Do you want a cup?"

Arthur hesitated, then nodded. "Please."

She turned, and walked to the kitchen, him following. It was much smaller than his immaculate one, and, he noticed, the crockery in the sink was mis matching - items she'd clearly purchased from thrift stores or sales. The kettle on the stove was starting to whistle, and carefully, she lifted it, and poured hot water into the two waiting mugs.

Arthur watched intently. As the water settled, Ariadne waited. Put a spoon into the two mugs, and pulled out the bags. Opening the trash can, she dropped them in. Putting the spoon back on the side she walked to the fridge, and opened the door.

Arthur watched her, almost suspiciously. As she pulled out a bottle of milk, he sucked in his breath.

"What is it?" she asked, puzzled.

"I just-" he watched as the white liquid splashed into one of the mugs. As she placed it on the table, he realised it was for her. She looked at him.

"Are you sure you-?"

"No!" He almost shouted. As she flushed, he bent his head, suddenly ashamed. "No, I don't take milk. Thanks."

She nodded. "Well...I do. I need the calcium."

He stared at the table as she placed the bottle back in the fridge, shutting the door almost soundlessly. "I'm sorry," he said, his words sounding feeble to his own ears. "I just- its hard to-"

"No, its fine," she said, kindly. She blushed. Her mind was floating back to the conversation she had had with Lomas two days previously.

* * *

"So, you're going to let him stay with you?" Lomas' eyes pierced into hers, frowning. She pulled herself up in the chair, wishing that she had not mentioned the decision. "You do realise that will put you under a great deal of strain?"

She nodded. "I know this, but-" she paused, unsure of what she should or could say next. The therapist was frowning, and she knew that he did not approve.

"Ariadne, you have made tremendous progress over the last six months." He leaned back in his seat, his expression softening slightly. "Please don't think that helping him will help you. It won't."

"Why are you so sure?!" She burst out.

"Because, from what you've told me, Arthur simply isn't ready to accept his illness." Lomas frowned, his face darkening. "He thinks he is control. He has to accept that he is an anorexic. At the moment, his condition defines him."

Ariadne bit her lip. "I still think there's another way."

Lomas sighed, realising that she was determined. "I cannot stop you. But, please - you have my number. If you need to use it, do."

* * *

"Ariadne?"

She blinked, Arthur was looking at her, his fingers clutching the handle of the mug. She swallowed, aware that her mind had drifted. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For...?"

"The tea." He picked it up, and took a sip.

"It was nothing." She spoke lightly. "Didn't your girlfriend ever make it for you?"

He shook his head. "Elena...we...didn't really go in for that?"

"Oh?"

"That domestic stuff." His face almost screwed up with distaste. As though he considered himself above the daily grind of domestic chores. Ariadne flushed and picked up her tea.

"Well, I won't ask you to cook." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it. Arthur looked at her.

"No, its fine," he said, smiling. "I'd like to."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said, nodding, suddenly seeing a new way to prevent losing control. "I'd love to cook for us."

**Please review - it is appreciated!** **Thank you for reading this fic! I will be away for two weeks - see you all soon! xx**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me.**

"Sure, I'd like you to cook." Ariadne nodded. "I mean, I'm not much of one, so if you can teach me anything..."

Arthur started to chuckle - the first time he'd felt relaxed enough to laugh for a long time. "Two people with eating disorders cooking..." he paused. "I'm sure there's something humorous in there."

"Yes, well, we both want to get better," she said, her voice artificially perky, causing Arthur to raise an eyebrow. "I know I do."

Arthur looked at her. "Well, yes."

"Don't you?" Her voice was faltering. She was suddenly beginning to realise that she knew very little about this man, aside from his illness.

"Well, yes," he said quickly, leaning forward. "I do want to get better...I mean..."

She swallowed, and stood up. "Its half six."

"Oh...you want to cook?"

"Yes, I'm just not sure what I have in the kitchen." She began to walk towards it and Arthur got up, and followed her. As she opened the fridge, he swallowed, and watched carefully.

"I have some...tomatoes...onions...chicken..."

"Any noodles?"

"Yes."

"Spices?"

"Yes."

"Good." He nodded. "Allow me."

* * *

Ariadne watched as Arthur deftly sliced the chicken, and slid it into the pan. As the room filled with the aroma of stir fry, she smiled. "Thank you."

"Oh, its nothing," he said, looking at her. "I like to cook. I used to cook for Elena regularly."

"I see."

She fell silent, and then asked. "Do you want some tea?"

"Um...yes." He nodded. "Black please, no milk."

She swallowed. "You should-"

"Should what?" He frowned. "I don't need milk. Its excessive calories. No-one needs it."

"Oh."

"People eat too much, that's the cause of a lot of problems nowadays." He poked at the food. "All the time. Why is it that no-one can go for ten minutes anymore without shoving something in their mouths? Its disgusting. All I ever see are people eating. In coffee shops, in restaurants, in diners. All the time. Food everywhere. Too much."

Ariadne fell silent.

"I used to eat too much," he continued, as though she were no longer there. "But I learned to control it, to stop. More should do what I did."

"Not eat at all?"

Arthur turned to her, his face clouding. "What was that?"

"Arthur, when you started coming to our meetings, you weren't eating at all." She swallowed, unsure of how to continue. "You were so thin-"

"Yeah, I'm such a porker now thanks to the hospital." His tone was bitter. "All they do in there is feed you. Constantly. I'm amazed I managed to fit through the door when I left."

"Arthur-"

"You know, I used to be in really good shape." He shook his head. "I used to take Elena dancing, and she loved it. And she used to love the way I looked. But then we were on vacation and-"

"And?" She prompted.

"And she said that-" He shook his head. "She told me I was gaining weight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But it didn't matter. She liked me a bit more cuddly." His face twisted. "But cuddly, it means-"

Suddenly, the intercom for the front door buzzed. She grabbed it off the wall. "Hello? Eames? No, come up!"

Arthur, suddenly feeling crushed, focused on cooking the food.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur deftly sliced the pepper, admiring the way he made neat, sharp notches in its smooth surface. As the slices fell into a graceful fan, he picked the board up, and swept it into the pan, checking the oil was hot enough. It made a satisfying sizzle as it fell. He reached for the onion he had chopped, and carefully threw it in.

He swallowed. Rice. He was unsure how much he needed to measure out - he felt only a small spoonful was sufficient. But would Ariadne perceive that as greedy? He rubbed his face, and began to pour rice into a cup. With a steady hand, he watched it fall into the boiling water.

As the grains swirled and rose to the surface, he breathed. Cooking. Something people did every day. But, he thought sourly, how many of them cooked too much? Food that was left to rot in garbage bags and on the streets. Food that people didn't need - and he saw the results as they waddled through the streets, uncomfortably over padded due to an excess of calories.

His hand automatically slipped to his flat stomach. Carefully, probingly, he felt the tautness of the skin, although he frowned as his fingers poked what he thought was a little padding. He scowled, feeling a wave of anger. All they ever did was try and feed him. Feed him until he was the size of an elephant.

Shaking his head, he reached for the meat he'd diced. As he swept it into the pan with a deft flick of the knife, he felt a sense of satisfaction.

* * *

"He's here?"

"Yes," Ariadne said quietly. "He's staying with me. But only for a while," she added, quickly.

Eames frowned. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"As I said, its only for a short while." Ariadne tried her hardest to make it sound positive, although she knew that Eames was dying to contradict her at every opportunity. Swallowing, she hooked her hair behind her ears, and headed to the kitchen.

"Arthur? Eames is here!"

Arthur looked up from the food he was stirring, and met Eames' eyes. The older man looked at him, almost coldly. "Hello." His voice sounded unnaturally calm.

Arthur nodded. "Hey."

"I remember you from the group meetings." Eames' tone was calm. "I didn't think you really wanted much to do with support groups."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Well, I just don't feel comfortable talking about my feelings in a room full of strangers."

"Really?" Eames smiled, coolly. "You seem to be perfectly fine with living with one."

"Eames!" Ariadne was slightly shocked at the older man's audacity. "Eames, Arthur is only here temporarily."

"I know." Eames eyed Arthur. The younger man turned and matched him, not breaking the tension. Ariadne swallowed. "I just need the bathroom." Turing, she left the room.

Arthur watched her go. Eames stepped forward. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm cooking," Arthur retorted.

"Why?" Eames looked at him, his face darkening. "You don't eat anything."

Arthur smirked. "I can cook for other people."

"Oh, I see." Eames exhaled slowly, carefully, as though modulating his thoughts. "You want to feed other people, but not yourself - right?"

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"My ex girlfriend had - still has - an eating disorder." Eames looked at him, coldly. "I know what you're trying to do."

"Oh, do you?" Arthur glared.

"Yes," Eames said, nodding. "I do."

Arthur smirked. "Think what you like."

Furious, the older man watched as he skillfully flicked the food around the pan. Then, Ariadne came back in, joining them. "Are you guys ok?"

Arthur looked at her. "Fine. Food's ready. Does everyone want to eat?"

**Thank you for reading, please review! **


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur hesitantly brought the pan over to the table. Ariadne had laid out mats, and crockery. As he put it on the table, she smiled, appreciatively.

"It looks good, Arthur."

He nodded. "Mango and chicken stir fry." He swallowed. "I'll get the rice-"

"No, I will." Eames' voice had a firmness that was impossible to argue with. Ariadne watched as he walked into the kitchen, and she nodded at Arthur, who silently sat down. As Eames returned, Ariadne picked up a serving spoon.

"Um, shall we help ourselves?"

"Probably for the best," Arthur muttered, whose eyes were downcast.

Ariadne picked up the spoon, and dug it into the rice. As she spooned some onto her plate, Eames spoke. "I think you need more than that."

She blushed, and looked down. "Well, its-"

"Barely two spoonfuls." Eames' tone was insistent. "You need calories, remember?" His voice was low, but it was enough to make Arthur look up, and glare at Eames.

"Oh, and you too." Eames' tone was almost dismissive. "I suggest you eat."

Arthur smirked. "They fed me in hospital, thanks."

"Really?" Eames retorted. "Doesn't look like it."

"Meaning?" There was a charged hostility to Arthur's voice.

"Meaning you look as thin as a stick," Eames snapped. "So, no, I don't believe they fed you. More they tried to."

Ariadne blinked. She was horrified. But Arthur, who had looked like a coiled python ready to strike, seemed to calm himself, and reach for the serving spoons. To her amazement, he proceeded to place a couple of spoonfuls of rice, and a small portion of stir fry onto his plate. He lifted his fork, and put it in the food, raising his eyebrows at Eames.

Ariadne shifted. She felt uncomfortable. It was as though Arthur were daring Eames to make a comment. The other man merely looked down at his plate, concentrating on his own food. She picked up a fork, piled some rice onto it, and thrust it into her mouth.

"Good?" Arthur asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

She chewed, and swallowed. Eames was concentrating on his own meal; Arthur the same. An uneasy silence had settled over the three of them. Anyone who casually looked in would have thought they were merely three friends joining together for dinner. After a few minutes, Eames spoke again.

"You are looking better, Ariadne."

Arthur looked up, frowning. The relationship between the two of them bothered him more than he cared to amit. She swallowed, and turned to Eames. "You think so?"

"Definitely," Eames said, nodding. "When you first started coming to the meetings...you just looked so...unwell."

Arthur couldn't resist. "I take it you don't like thin women?" he said, innocently. Eames looked at him, and smiled.

"Well, put it this way. One of the biggest turn offs is a woman who looks like a corpse." He looked Arthur directly in the eyes. "If a woman who was a size zero approached me, I wouldn't be interested."

Arthur smirked. "I guess I'm not man enough to handle a real woman." He narrowed his eyes. "Because I think they're-"

"What?" Eames was looking at him directly. "Beautiful? Stunning? The look of bones? Or is it the feel of them? Is that how you get your kicks?"

"Eames!" Ariadne was shocked. "Please, this is unecessary!"

"No, I think it is." Eames was looking furious. "I really would like Arthur to explain how he views people...because what I've gleaned...its so warped."

"You want me to tell you?"

"Please do."

"Fine." Arthur leaned back, and looked straight at the other man. "I will."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you! **


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.**

"My view of other people..." Arthur paused, and looked down into his hands. Eames glanced at Ariadne. She had her head bowed, as though she were at prayer. The silence in the room was beginning to feel oppressive.

"Most people..." Arthur swallowed. "Most people..."

Ariadne looked up. He was speaking, but it was as though it were with difficulty - the words seemed to take a long time to form, and force out of his mouth. He shuddered.

"Please." Ariadne pushed her plate aside slightly, and reached across. Her fingertips lightly grazed his knuckles, a gesture of intimacy which made Eames look up, and frown. "What is it?"

"I just wonder why other people have no problem with what they shove into their mouths," Arthur said, his tone edged with bitterness. "I see them do it all the time. On the streets, in work...have people no shame?!"

"Shame about what?" Eames asked, carefully.

"Calories." Arthur scrunched his face up, making himself look younger and more vulnerable. "Fat content. I see some hideous sights on the streets, and I wonder why no-one ever says anything to them!"

"Perhaps its because they think people should mind their own business?" There was a sharp edge to his voice, causing Ariadne to frown. Eames glanced at her. The expression on her face indicated she was becoming convinced by Arthur's one sided view. "What people eat is nothing to do with you?"

"So why is what I eat something to do with them?"

The question was delivered quietly, but Ariadne blinked. She didn't remove her hand from Arthur's, but neither did she speak. Eames was also silent.

"You say I shouldn't judge others on what they eat, but it seems anyone and everyone can comment on what I put on my plate..." Arthur's voice was growing quieter, trailing off. "Its as though its a conspiracy."

"About what?" Ariadne had fallen completely silent, and Eames sensed a need to keep the conversation going.

"About my body." Arthur's voice was tight and tense. "No one can ever seem to mind their own business about it. When I was young, they always commented. Then when I got older-"

"Who is they?" Ariadne interrupted.

"My parents. Family."

"Mine did as well," she said, softly. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. Eames was watching the interaction between them intently, as though looking for verbal cues to pick up on. "I was a tomboy, and played a lot of sport. Track, swimming...so I developed some muscle tone."

Arthur shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that."

"It is if your parents want you to look feminine and pretty - and they didn't think what I did was going to do that." She shook her head. "This was when I was in High School, looking to go to College. My mother told me that I needed to keep up my point four average, so the best thing to do was to give up on sport. That way, I would have more time to study."

Arthur leaned forward. "So what happened?"

"Well, I gained some weight." She swallowed, and looked at him, unhappily. "But I discovered a way to keep it down - by throwing up."

Arthur sank back into his seat. His face twitched.

"Don't tell me," Ariadne said, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice. "You think that's gross. Hideous. I've been doing it for nearly six years. Until I was convinced to go into treatment. But I'm being honest, Arthur. Isn't it time you were?"

**Thank you for reading, please review!**

**Apologies for the lack of updates...work is very very busy. **


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